there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.

We knew our days were numbered. We had fouled up our lives and we were getting ready for a shake-up.

And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

I am a cigarette with a body attached to it

Anyone can express himself or herself, but what writers and poets want to do in their work, more than simply express themselves, is communicate.

There are significant moments in everyone's day that can make literature. That's what you ought to write about.

It's strange. You never start out life with the intention of becoming a bankrupt or an alcoholic or a cheat and a thief. Or a liar.