I warn you that when the princes of this world start loving you it means they are going to grind you up into battle sausage.

There are certain advantages in being cursed by all and sundry ... especially, it dispenses you with having to be nice to anybody ... there's nothing more emollient, stultifying, emasculating than wanting to be liked ... "not nice!" ... that does it, you're free!.

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

Most people die at the last minute; others twenty years beforehand, some even earlier. They are the wretched of the earth.

Since life consists of madness spiked with lies, the farther you are from each other the more lies you can put into it and the happier you'll be. That's only natural and normal. Truth is inedible.

Poor people never, or hardly ever, ask for an explanation of all they have to put up with. They hate one another, and content themselves with that.

The sadness of the world has different ways of getting to people, but it seems to succeed almost every time.