Then I started reading this timetable I had in my pocket. Just to stop lying. Once I getstarted, I can go for hours if I feel like it. No kidding. Hours.
It ends up with everybody at this long dinner table laughing their asses off because the great Dane comes in with a bunch of puppies. Everybody thought it was a male, I suppose, or some goddam thing. All I can say is, don’t see it if you don’t want to puke all over yourself.
Anyway I just got your beautiful letter and I love you to pieces, distraction, etc.
I’m sorry, I’m awful, I’ve just felt so terribly destructive all week. It’s awful. I’m horrible.
The man falling isn’t permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling.
Seymour once said to me – in a crosstown bus, of all places – that all legitimate religious study must lead to unlearning the differences, the illusory differences, between boys and girls, animals and stones, day and night, heat and cold.
The thing is, it drives me crazy if somebody else gets killed – especially somebody very smart and entertaining and all – and it’s somebody else’s fault.
He was rather like a Christmas tree whose lights, wired in series, must all go out if even one bulb is defective.
The fact is always obvious much too late, but the most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy a liquid.
She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.
What I think is, you’re supposed to leave somebody alone if he’s at least being interesting and he’s getting all excited about something. I like it when somebody gets excited about something. It’s nice.
Mothers are all slightly insane.
It’s funny. All you have to do is say something nobody understands and they’ll do practically anything you want them to.
Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do.
Grand. There’s a word I really hate. It’s a phony. I could puke every time I hear it.
One day a long time from now you’ll cease to care anymore whom you please or what anybody has to say about you. That’s when you’ll finally produce the work you’re capable of.
The true poet has no choice of material. The material plainly chooses him, not he it.
Sleep tight, ya morons!
Who in the Bible besides Jesus knew – knew – that we’re carrying the Kingdom of Heaven around with us, inside, where we’re all too goddam stupid and sentimental and unimaginative to look?
I’m sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.