Our Journey Is Entirely Imaginary. That Is

Experience Is A Dim Lamp, Which Only Lights The One Who Bears It.

In My Room I'd Barely Closed My Eyes When The Blonde From The Movie House Came Along And Sang Her Whole Song Of Sorrow Just For Me. I Helped Her Put Me To Sleep, So To Speak, And Succeeded Pretty Well... I Wasn't Entirely Alone... It's Not Possible To Sleep Alone.

Lots Of Men Are Like That, Their Artistic Leanings Never Go Beyond A Weakness For Shapely Thighs.

Man Hardly Comes In More Than Two Varieties, Wherever He Is, Whatever He Does: Workers And Pimps ... They're Either One Or The Other! ... And Inventors, The Worst Kind Of Jobholder! ... They Stand Condemned! ... The Writer Who Doesn't Pimp Along, Peacefully Plagiarizing, Who Doesn't Pump Out The Pop Stuff, He's Had It! ... Everybody Hates Him!

There's No Such Thing As Intelligent Vanity. It's An Instinct. And You'll Never Find A Man Who Is Not First And Foremost Vain.