Writers in a profit making economy are an exploitable commodity whose works are products to be marketed, and are so judged and handled.

There are worse words than cuss-words, there are words that hurt.

And when is there time to remember, to sift, to weigh, to estimate, to total?

I know that I haven’t powers enough to divide myself into one who earns and one who creates.

Better mankind born without mouths and stomachs than always to worry about money to buy, to shop, to fix, to cook, to wash, to clean.

The clock talked loud. I threw it away, it scared me what it talked.

That's what I want to be when I grow up, just a peaceful wreck holding hands with other peaceful wrecks.