My ideal job? Landlord of a bordello! The company's good and the mornings are quiet, which is the best time to write.

Our most treasured family heirloom are our sweet family memories. The past is never dead, it is not even past.

To live anywhere in the world today and be against equality because of race or color is like living in Alaska and being against snow.

The artist is of no importance. Only what he creates is important, since there is nothing new to be said. Shakespeare, Balzac, Homer have all written about the same things, and if they had lived one thousand or two thousand years longer, the publishers wouldn't have needed anyone since.

My own experience has been that the tools I need for my trade are paper, tobacco, food, and a little whisky.

What's wrong with this world is, it's not finished yet. It is not completed to that point where man can put his final signature to the job and say, "It is finished. We made it, and it works.

Because there is something in the touch of flesh with flesh which abrogates, cuts sharp and straight across the devious intricate channels of decorous ordering, which enemies as well as lovers know because it makes them both:---touch and touch of that which is the citadel of the central I-Am's private own: not spirit, soul; the liquorish and ungirdled mind is anyone's to take in any any darkened hallway of this earthly tenement. But let flesh touch with flesh, and watch the fall of all the eggshell shibboleth of caste and color too.