“I could happily lie down and die sometimes.”

A confessional passage has probably never been written that didn’t stink a little bit of the writer’s pride in having given up his pride.

I told her I loved her and all. It was a lie, of course, but the thing is, I meant it when I said it. I’m crazy. I swear to God I am.

I don’t exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it.

You’re lucky if you get time to sneeze in this goddam phenomenal world.

It’s not too bad when the sun’s out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.

Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do.

That’s the whole trouble. You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any.

The more expensive a school is, the more crooks it has — I’m not kidding.

I’m the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It’s awful. If I’m on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I’m going, I’m liable to say I’m going to the opera. It’s terrible.

The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.

I am a kind of paranoid in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.

Listen, if you’re not going to be a nun or something, you might as well laugh.

Grand. There’s a word I really hate. It’s a phony. I could puke every time I hear it.

We don’t talk, we hold forth. We don’t converse, we expound.

I have scars on my hands from touching certain people…Certain heads, certain colours and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me.

If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she’s late? Nobody.

If we stay where we are, where we’re stuck, where we’re comfortable and safe, we die there… When nothing new can get in, that’s death.

Love lives. and dies. as fast as butterflies.

The dead drug leaves a ghost behind. At certain hours it haunts the house.

Jesus does not offer to make bad people good but to make dead people alive.

Does that not sound odd to you? When God decides who should live or die, he is immoral, When you decide who should live or die, it’s your moral right. There was a pin-drop silence.

To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.

Death is repose, but the thought of death disturbs all repose.

A corpse is what’s left after waking too often.