If You Don't Know Why You Like

We've Never Managed, Either One Of Us, To Get All The Way Into Life. We're Hanging On To The Outside For All We're Worth, Convinced We're Going To Fall Off At The Next Bump.

She Was Saved From Prettiness By The Intensity Of Her Gaze.

I Wanted To Meet Other Artists. I Suppose I Simply Felt That I Was Taking Pot Shots At Clay Pipes. Pop! Down Goes Gertrude, Down Goes Jean Cocteau, Down Goes André Gide.

Publishers Are Thieves, They Are On The Other Side Of The Barricade.

No One Can Ever Heap Enough Insults Upon Me To Suit My Taste. I Think We All Really Thrive On Hostility, Because It's The Most Intense Kind Of Massage The Ego Can Undergo. Other People's Indifference Is The Only Horror.