A man who can beat the horses can do anything he makes up his mind to do.
Courts are places where the ending is written first and all that precedes is simply vaudeville.
What a weary time those years were – to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability.
There is nothing as boring as the truth.
We waste days like mad blackbirds and pray for alcoholic nightsour silk-sick human smiles wrap around us like somebody else’s confetti.
You have my soul and I have your money.
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife inside because there was no alternative except to hide as long as possible – not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance: trying to connect.
I was their bar freak, they needed me to make themselves feel better. just like, at times, I needed that graveyard.
They, all of them, seemed to put literary form in front of the actuality and living of life itself.
The world had somehow gone too far, and spontaneous kindness could never be so easy.
It’s just that the grape has me down.
Sweet Christ, you must know that a man will go further for any poem than for any woman ever born.
It will rain all this night and we will sleep transfixed by the dark water as our blood runs through our fragile life.
When Ginsburg is at the top of his game you might as well put down your toys and listen.
There’s nothing unusual about love.
My body gnaws at me from one side and my spirit gnaws at me from the other.
Fiction is an improvement on life.
It is possible to be truly mad and to still exist upon scraps of life.
I was only photographing in words the reality of it all.
I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard.