It is not peace we seek but meaning.

Like all young men I set out to be a genius, but mercifully laughter intervened.

History is an endless repetition of the wrong way of living.

Love is like trench warfare - you cannot see the enemy, but you know he is there and that it is wiser to keep your head down.

I have been thinking about the girl I met last night in the mirror: dark on the marble-ivory white: glossy black hair: deep suspiring eyes in which one's glances sink because they are nervous, curious, turned to sexual curiosity.

It is not peace we seek but meaning.

Let us define 'man' as a poet perpetually conspiring against himself.