I think that-that anyone, the painter, the musician, the writer works in a-a kind of an-an insane fury. He's demon-driven. He can get up feeling rotten, with a hangover, or with-with actual pain, and-and if he gets to work, the first thing he knows, he don't remember that pain, that hangover-he's too busy.

Pouring out liquor is like burning books.

People need trouble - a little frustration to sharpen the spirit on, toughen it.

Everything in Los Angeles is too large, too loud and usually banal in concept… The plastic asshole of the world.

There is no such thing as was - only is. If was existed, there would be no grief or sorrow.

Don't bother just to be better than others. Try to be better than yourself.

A man is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you'd think misfortune would get tired but then time is your misfortune