Love each other or perish.

But if a stranger in the train asks me my occupation, I never answer "writer" for fear that he may go on to ask me what I write, and to answer "poetry" would embarrass us both, for we both know that nobody can earn a living simply by writing poetry.

The only way to spend New Year's Eve is either quietly with friends or in a brothel. Otherwise when the evening ends and people pair off, someone is bound to be left in tears.

If time were the wicked sheriff in a horse opera, I'd pay for riding lessons and take his gun away.

Every high C accurately struck demolishes the theory that we are the irresponsible puppets of fate or chance.

In the end, art is small beer. The really serious things are earning one's living so as not to be a parasite and loving one's neighbor.

Time will say nothing but I told you so.