The plain truth, I may as well admit it, is that I've never been really right in the head.

An unfamiliar city is a fine thing. That's the time and place when you can suppose that all the people you meet are nice. It's dream time.

When you stop to examine the way in which our words are formed and uttered, our sentences are hard-put to it to survive the disaster of their slobbery origins.

Lots of men are like that, their artistic leanings never go beyond a weakness for shapely thighs.

To hell with reality! I want to die in music, not in reason or in prose.

To travel is very useful, it makes the imagination work, the rest is just delusion and pain. Our journey is entirely imaginary, which is its strength.

Love is the infinite placed within the reach of poodles. I have my dignity!