“Die in the West and you’re halfway to Heaven.”

Who says Television isn’t educational, as soon as the T.V. comes on I read a book.

Any place I hang my head is home.

Everyone must believe in something. I believe I’ll have another beer.

We left New York drunk and early on the morning of February second.

Well, art is art, isn’t it? Still, on the other hand, water is water!

The trouble with writing a book about yourself is that you can’t fool around.

My mother loved children – she would have given anything if I had been one.

Man does not control his own fate. The women in his life do that for him.

If you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce, they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does.

A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.

Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped.

I’ve got a good mind to go out and join a club and beat you over the head with it.

Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?

If you write about yourself the slightest deviation makes you realize instantly that there may be honor among thieves, but you are just a dirty liar.

I wouldn’t want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.

Room service? Send up a larger room.

If I make music and people hate it, you know, whatever. I’ll die someday, and one day, they will too.

While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume.

Ignoring your passion is like dying a slow death.

My music fights against the system that teaches to live and die.

Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one’s mistakes.

This time it is real – all must die, and where could mountaineer find a more glorious death!

A star can never die. It just turns into a smile and melts back into the cosmic music, the dance of life.