She’s mad, but she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.

having nothing to struggleagainstthey have nothing to strugglefor.

Jag föddes för att kränga rosor på de dödas avenyer

Walking out with the people, I didn’t know which was more exciting, the air race, the parachute jump that failed, or the cunt.

Courage comes from the belly – all else is desperation.

I heard an airplane passing overhead. I wished I was on it.

People were usually much better in their letters than in reality. They were much like poets in this way.

people see so many movies that when they finally see one not so bad as the others, they think it’s great. an Academy Award means that you don’t stink quite as much as your cousin.

I kept telling myself that all the women in the world weren´t whores, just mine.

I think I need a drink.”Almost everybody does only they don’t know it.

there is a place in the heart thatwill never be filleda spaceand even during thebest momentsandthe greatest timestimeswe will know itwe will know itmore thaneverthere is a place in the heart thatwill never be filledandwe...

nothing can save you except writing. it keeps the walls from failing.

the way to create art is to burn and destroyordinary concepts and to substitute themwith new truths that run down from the top of the headand out of the heart

People just weren’t interesting. Maybe they weren’t supposed to be. But animals, birds, even insects were. I couldn’t understand it.

That’s when I first learned that it wasn’t enough to just do your job, you had to have an interest in it, even a passion for it.

goodness” like a tube running through our bodies. It can be nurtured. It’s always magic, when on a freeway packed with traffic, a stranger makes room for you to change lanes… it gives you hope.

now look, she said, stretched out on the bed, I don’t want anything personal, let’s just do it, I don’t want to get involved, got it? she kicked off her high-heeled shoes… sure, he said,...

what matters most is how well you walk through the fire

guido per le strade,ad un passo dal pianto,vergognandomi del mio sentimentalismoe del mio possibile amore.

First paycheck I get, I thought, I’m going to get myself a room near the downtown L.A. Public Library.

My dear,Find what you love and let it kill you.Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.Let it kill you and let it...

she slammed the door andwas gone.I looked at the closed doorand at the doorknoband strangelyI didn’t feelalone.

A good writer knew when not to write. Anybody could type. Not that I was a good typist; also I couldn’t spell and I didn’t know grammar. But I knew when not to write. It...

I tell you such fine music waits in the shadows of hell.

when I drive the freeways I see the soul of humanity ofmy city and it’s ugly, ugly, ugly: the living have choked theheartaway.

I’m not dead yet, just in a state of rapid decay, who isn’t?

one doesn’t even think ofthe liverand if the liverdoesn’t think ofus, that’sfine.

My heart is a thousand years old. I am not like other people.

Some lose all mind and become soul,insane.some lose all soul and become mind, intellectual.some lose both and become accepted

I have beenhanging hereheadlessfor so longthat the body has forgottenwhyor where or when ithappenedand the toeswalk along in shoesthat do notcareand althoughthe fingersslice things andhold things andmove things andtouchthingssuch asorangesapplesonionsbooksbodiesI am no longerreasonably surewhat these...

Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.

I paid, got up, walkedto the door, openedit.I heard the mansay, “that guy’snuts.”out on the street Iwalked northfeelingcuriouslyhonored.

crawled like a blind slug into the web

She would have been a better fuck in Greece, maybe. America was a shitty place to fuck.

the courage it took to get out of bed eachmorningto face the same thingsover and overwasenormous.

the best part waspulling down theshadesstuffing the doorbellwith ragsputting the phonein therefrigeratorand going to bedfor 3 or 4days. and the next bestpartwasnobody evermissedme.

the impossibility of being humanall too humanthis breathingin and outout and inthese punksthese cowardsthese championsthese mad dogs of glorymoving this little bit of light towardusimpossibly.

It’s like a movie, I thought, like a fucking movie. It seemed funny to me. It felt as if we were on camera. I liked it. It was better than the racetrack, it was better...

Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves and from others. Their fear is only their inability to face what is real, and I can’t vent any anger...

Meanwhile the 3 a.m. drunks of the world would lay in their beds, trying in vain to sleep, and deserving that rest, if they could find it.

It was like the beginning of life and laughter. It was the real meaning of the sun

writing about a writer’s block is better than not writing at all

Goodness could be found sometimes in the middle of hell.

I was alone with myself. And disgusting as I was it was better than being with somebody else, anybody else, all of them out there doing their pitiful little tricks and handsprings.

Any damn fool can beg up some kind of job; it takes a wise man to make it without working.

There was nothing glorious about the life of a drinker or the life of a writer.

yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut

We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.

E poi ci sono quelli che credono che le vecchie relazionipossano essere rivissute efatte nuove.Ma perfavorese ti senti in quel modonon chiamarenon scriverenon arrivare…

I’ve learned to feel good when I feel good.it’s better to be driven around in a red porschethan to ownone. the luck of the fool is inviolate.