“I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.”

People run from rain but sit in bathtubs full of water.

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

I still have a little whiskey left and therefore a chance.

Wherever the crowd goes run in the other direction. They’re always wrong.

The shortest distance between two points is often unbearable.

The world is full of boring, identical and mindless people.

I am a series of small victories and large defeats and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here.

Dogs and angels are not very far apart.

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

Almost everybody is born a genius and buried an idiot.

Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.

Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?

I don’t remember going to bed, but in the morning, there I was.

Love is all right for those who can handle the psychic overload. It’s like trying to carry a full garbage can on your back over a rushing river of piss.

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.

The difference between a democracy and a dictatorship is that in a democracy you vote first and take orders later; in a dictatorship you don’t have to waste your time voting.

I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.

You don’t have to deserve your mother’s love. You have to deserve your father s. He’s more particular. The father is always a Republican towards his son, and his mother’s always a Democrat.

One can have no smaller or greater mastery than mastery of oneself.

Each one of us is a love story with God.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

If they were meant to be together they would find a way to do it.

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.

One should go to the woods for safety, if for nothing else.