Look, that homeless guy is sleeping on my face. New York really is where dreams come true.
I used to consider myself as great as a pyramid, and now I realize that I am only a shadow that passes.
This is a bond nothing can ever loosen. What I have lost: what I possess forever.
We still have prostitutes standing on our corner, and people crapping round the back of buildings. The charms are still there.
I find myself very, very happy to be a weird writer.
I won't be labeled as average.