I know I have only myself to blame for all the problems I've had in my life.

I like the hip writers: Fitzgerald, the guy who committed suicide, Hemingway, all those guys. Some of them were alcoholics and drug addicts but they had fun. They were real people. They formed the culture of American literature. Hemingway admired Tolstoy, Tolstoy admired Pushkin, and Mailer admired Hemingway. It all flows down. The greats are all connected. One day I'm gonna write a book myself. The first chapter will be about what a rough deal my momma got. She believed in you guys and your society.

My power is discombobulatingly devastating.

Anger is my biggest enemy in life.

The only thing I do is just pray for inspiration, for a way of thinking, because I don't have any particular goal in sight.

I'll go back and take what the people owe me.

Basically I don't care what people think of me. I'm not in the communications business.