“At least I admit that I don't know. I know that things are fucked up, beyond belief, and I have nothing original to say about it.”

“I mean, what kind of literature do you think ants would make if they could read? Not F. Scott Fuckin’ Fitzgerald, not Joyce or D-D—D-Dostoyevsky, not even friggin’ Steinbeck. Wouldn’t make any sense to ’em. You ever read Nabokov’s Lolita? Best book of the twentieth century, but old-fashioned my friend, old fuckin’ fashioned. Same old story over and over again, one more guy mesmerized by his own dick, wandering around the wreckage of his life. Who the fuck cares about that? Give me the Knights of the Round Table! Give me Merlin! Or better, the “wine dark sea”! Much more interesting.”

“It's my duty as a human being to be pissed off”

“I don't even know her yet..but if she could see me right now, I'd want her to know that I love her”

“Practically all writers and artists are aware of their destiny and see themselves as actors in a fateful drama. With me, nothing is momentous: obscure youth, glorious old age, fateful coincidences — nothing really matters. I have written a number of good sentences. I have kept free of delusions. I know I am going to die soon.”

“Have you ever been at a point that you don't know what to say? But yet you came up with this crazy idea to type this.”

“Would you know my nameIf I saw you in heavenWill it be the sameIf I saw you in heavenI must be strong, and carry onCause I know I don't belongHere in heavenWould you hold my handIf I saw you in heavenWould you help me standIf I saw you in heavenI'll find my way, through night and dayCause I know I just can't stayHere in heaven”