“the psyche has been burnedand left us senseless,the world has been darker than lights-outin a closet full of hungry bats,and the whiskey and wine entered our veinswhen blood was too weak to carry on”

“Lighting new cigarettes,pouring moredrinks. It has been a beautiful fight. Stillis.”

“Many a good man has been put under the bridge by a woman.”

“it doesn't matter if Prince Charles falls off his horseor that the hummingbird is so seldomseenor that we are too senseless to goinsane.coffee. give us more of that NOTHINGcoffee.”

“I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." I've never thought, "Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I'll feel good." No, that won't help. You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!”

“I like women who haven’t lived with too many men.I don’t expect virginity but I simply prefer womenwho haven’t been rubbed raw by experience.There is a quality about women who choosemen sparingly;it appears in their walkin their eyesin their laughter and in theirgentle hearts.Women who have had too many menseem to choose the next oneout of revenge rather than withfeeling.When you play the field selfishly everythingworks against you:one can’t insist on love ordemand affection.You’re finally left with whateveryou have been willing to givewhich often is:nothing.”

“the writing of somemenis like a vast bridgethat carries youoverthe many thingsthat claw and tear.The Wine of Forever”