“Write freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper.”

It’s a hard thing to leave any deeply routine life, even if you hate it.

The free exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world.

I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.

This I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual.

In poverty she is envious. In riches she may be a snob. Money does not change the sickness, only the symptoms.

Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts, perhaps the fear of a loss of power.

Out of all this struggle a good thing is going to grow. That makes it worthwhile.

I know now why confusion in government is not only tolerated but encouraged. I have learned. Confused people can make no clear demands.

There’s a responsibility in being a person. It’s more than just taking up space where air would be.

And finally, in our time a beard is the one thing that a woman cannot do better than a man, or if she can her success is assured only in a circus.

A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ.

American married life is the doormat to the whorehouse.

People like you to be something, preferably what they are.

If a story is not about the hearer, he will not listen. And here I make a rule—a great and interesting story is about everyone or it will not last.

No one wants advice – only corroboration.

You’re bound to get ideas if you go thinkin’ about stuff.

May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.

Our freedom lays deeper than your laws will ever cut into paper…For my words and rights are more than lines.

Writing saved my life when it all became too much. I poured my pain out into poetry I let the paper absorb everything i’d been holding on for years.

I’ll allow for this pain to bleed from my pen onto the paper to relieve the pressure from my tortured mind.

whenever I look at you my thoughts are full of sensual poetry. But would I write about my feelings for you, my pen would begin to glow and my paper would immediately catch fire.

I’ve grown to enjoy solitude it doesn’t feel as lonely when you are accompanied by a pen and paper.

Some hearts are as fragile as paper, in a world where everyone breathes fire.

Sometimes, you want nothing more than to aimlessly scribble on paper and let the ink flow.