A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.

And I, stepping from this skin Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces Step to you from the black car of Lethe, Pure as a baby.

To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and at the strange enigmatic ways of the world which she will spend lifetime trying to learn and understand.

I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.

The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T.B. Once you were beautiful.

I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off.

I felt the first man I slept with must be intelligent, so I could respect him.