How wonderful it was to love something without the compromise of language.

Writers can write outside their ethnicity or sex depending how open and vulnerable they wish to be.

Death steals everything except our stories.

Everybody has a gun in their car in Detroit.

Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness and they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy, or they become legends.

A poet must discover that it’s his own story that is true, even if the truth is small indeed.

The danger of civilization, of course, is that you will piss away your life on nonsense.