I came to a point where I needed solitude and just stop the machine of ‘thinking’ and ‘enjoying’ what they call ‘living’, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.

...do you think God made the world to amuse himself because he was bored? Because if so he would have to be mean.

Avoid the world, it's just a lot of dust and drag and means nothing in the end.

Because he had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars.

Something good will come out of all things yet — And it will be golden and eternal just like that.

It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.

If critics say your work stinks it's because they want it to stink and they can make it stink by scaring you into conformity with their comfortable little standards. Standards so low that they can no longer be considered "dangerous" but set in place in their compartmental understandings.