You are being suffocated by tradition... Why don't you say, 'I am going to build a life for myself, for my time, and make it a work of art'? Your life isn't a work of art ---it's a thirdhand Victorian whatnot shelf, complete with someone else's collection of seashells and hand-carved elephants.

Until you die .. it's all life.

The surface of Earth heaved and seethed in fecund restlessness. Earth was most fertile where the most death was.

As stupid and vicious as men are, this is a lovely day.

Much of the blame is the malarkey that artists have created to glorify war, which as we all know, is nonsense, and a good deal worse than that — romantic pictures of battle, and of the dead and men in uniform and all that. And I did not want to have that story told again.

Hate, in the long run, is about as nourishing as cyanide.

Dear future generations: Please accept our apologies. We were rolling drunk on petroleum.