Literature is a vast forest and the masterpieces are the lakes, the towering trees or strange trees, the lovely, eloquent flowers, the hidden caves, but a forest is also made up of ordinary trees, patches of grass, puddles, clinging vines, mushrooms, and little wildflowers.

What twisted people we are. How simple we seem, or at least pretend to be in front of others, and how twisted we are deep down. How paltry we are and how spectacularly we contort ourselves before our own eyes, and the eyes of others...And all for what? To hide what? To make people believe what?

Reading is pleasure and happiness to be alive or sadness to be alive and above all it's knowledge and questions.

You have to know how to look even if you don't know what you're looking for.

There's no place on earth with more dumb girls per square foot than a college in California.

When you die of sorrow it's as if you've broken all the bones in your body, bruised yourself all over, cracked your skull. That's sorrow.

In the current socio-political climate, he said to himself, committing suicide is absurd and redundant. Better to become an undercover poet.