I was raised a Christian and was a stone-faced acid head.

A sound of cornered-animal fear and hate and surrender and defiance . . . like the last sound the treed and shot and falling animal makes as the dogs get him, when he finally doesn't care about anything but himself and his dying.

People don't want other people to get high, because if you get high, you might see the falsity of the fabric of the society we live in.

But if the strength ain't real, I recall thinking the very last thing that day, before I finally passed out, then the weakness sure enough is. Weakness is true and real. I used to accuse the kid of faking his weakness. But faking proves the weakness is real. Or you wouldn't be so weak as to fake it. No, you can't ever fake being weak. You can only fake being strong. . .

You don't plow under the corn because the seed was planted with a neighbor's shovel.

What can you pay for the way a man lives? What can you pay for what a man is?

The secret of being a top-notch con man is being able to know what the mark wants, and how to make him think he's getting it.