Never dreaming, was I, poor Jack Duluoz, that the soul is dead. That from Heaven grace descends . . . No Doctor Pisspot Poorpail to tell me; no example inside my first and only skin. That love is the heritage, and cousin to death. That the only love can only be the first love, the only death the last, the only life within, and the only word . . . choked forever.

don't stop to think of the words when you do stop, just stop to think of the picture better-and let your mind off yourself in this work.

Pain or love or danger makes you real again.

And as far as I can see the world is too old for us to talk about it with our new words.

You aren't ever going to be anything in this world unless you do what you want to do, when you want to do it--don't plan anything, just go out and do it.

What a horror it would have been if the world was real, because if the world was real, it would be immortal.

Oftentimes an originator of new language forms is called 'pretentious' by jealous talents. But it ain’t whatcha write, it’s the way atcha write it.