“I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone.”

Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I’ve said before, bugs in amber.

Ting-a-ling mother fucker.

All right – I’ll tell you what you did for me: you went for happy, silly, beautiful walks with me.

If I am going to spend eternity visiting this moment and that, I’m grateful that so many of those moments are nice.

I couldn’t help wondering if that was what God put me on Earth for–to find out how much a man could take without breaking.

Live by the harmless untruths that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.

What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.

Americans, are forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be. It must have something to do with the vanished frontier.

Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you’ve been to college.

There is one other book, that can teach you everything you need to know about life, it’s The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, but that’s not enough anymore.

Say what you will about the sweet miracle of unquestioning faith, I consider a capacity for it terrifying and absolutely vile.

The worst thing that could possibly happen to anybody would be to not be used for anything by anybody. Thank you for using me, even though I didn’t want to be used by anybody.

Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.

If your brains were dynamite there wouldn’t be enough to blow your hat off.

A sane person to an insane society must appear insane.

True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.

Reality is an illusion that occurs due to the lack of alcohol.

Everybody’s got to believe in something. I believe I’ll have another beer.

I’m so insecure, I think, that I’ll die before I drink.

I hope to arrive at my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.

A few drinks and the world was hers – she wore her whiskey like a loaded gun.

My blood is fifty percent alcohol the other half was you.

Off the liquor that’s when I’m the most honest.

The night is to get drunk listening to adventure.