The trouble with this world is that everybody has to compromise and conform.

Since that day, when people have spoken to me of "genius", I have felt the inside pocket to make sure my wallet's still there.

I don't mean what other people mean when they speak of a home, because I don't regard a home as a...well, as a place, a building...a house...of wood, bricks, stone. I think of a home as being a thing that two people have between them in which each can...well, nest.

When I was fourteen, my father decided to initiate me into the ways of manhood, and took me to the local whorehouse. The woman spread her legs, and made me look between them. All I could see was something that looked like a dyin' orchid; consequently, I have never been comfortable around women or orchids.

If you can't be yourself, what's the point of being anyone else?

The helpless can't help the helpless.

Friends are God's way of apologizing to us for our families