I never felt at home. I stuck outIn New York City, especially in Greenwich Village, down among the cranks and the misfits and the one-lungers and the has-beens and the might've beens and the would-bes and the never-wills and the God-knows-whats, I have always felt at home.

All information of a spiritual or personal nature will have to come from our father, who art in heaven, and I think he's in New York right now.

When I get through tearing a lobster apart, or one of those tender West Coast octopuses, I feel like I had a drink from the fountain of youth.

Life is a goddam mess...but you wouldn't want to miss it!

...you can hate a place with all your heart and soul and still be homesick for it.

He had a habit of remarking to bartenders that he didn't see any sense in mixing whiskey with water since the whiskey was already wet.

My dad was a cotton buyer and cotton buyers always considered themselves superior to the rest of the world.