I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.

The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed.

What is so real as the cry of a child?

I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.

...we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.

I think writers are the most narcissistic people. Well, I musn't say this, I like many of them, a great many of my friends are writers.

You've only got so long to live.