Personal lyricism is the outcry of prisoner to prisoner from the cell in solitary where each is confined for the duration of his life.

And so tonight we're going to make the lie true, and when that's done, I'll bring the liquor back here and we'll get drunk together, here, tonight, in this place that death has come into...

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.

They chatter together like birds on Cypress Hill, but all they say is 'Live, live, live, live, live!' It's all they've learned, it's the only advice they can give.

We're left alone with each other. We have to creep close to each other and give gentle little nudges with our paws and our muzzles before we can slip into sleep and rest for the next day's playtime.

Most of the confidence which I appear to feel, especially when influenced by noon wine, is only a pretense.

Some things are not forgiveable. Deliberate cruelty is not forgiveable. It is the most unforgiveable thing in my opinion, and the one thing in which I have never, ever been guilty.