I went out into the world when I was about 22. I wrote books and I illustrated books and did book covers, and I taught tap-dancing, and I was a model in the art school. I had no ability for any of those things, but what else could I do?

I would never go to a place and live there because the weather was good or the scenery was beautiful or the architecture was wonderful. I would only go because the people are kind, and in America, everybody's your friend and happiness rains down from the sky.

What I wanted most of all was to use sex as a weapon to allure, subjugate, and, if possible, destroy the personality of others.

For flavor, instant sex will never supersede the stuff you have to peel and cook.

The worst part of being gay in the twentieth century is all that damn disco music to which one has to listen.

Life was a funny thing that happened to me on the way to the grave.

Muddled syntax is the outward and audible sign of confused minds, and the misuse of grammar the result of illogical thinking.