there’s nothing todiscussthere’s nothing torememberthere’s nothing toforgetit’s sadand it’s notsadseems themost sensiblethinga person can doissitwith drink inhandas the wallswavetheir goodbyesmilesone comes throughit allwith a certain amount ofefficiency andbraverythenleavessome acceptthe possibility ofGodto help themgetthroughotherstake itstaight onand to theseI drink tonight.

We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.

as long as there arehuman beings aboutthere is never going to beany peacefor any individualupon this earth (oranywhere elsethey mightescape to).all you can dois maybe grabten lucky minuteshereor maybe an hourthere.somethingis working toward youright now, andI mean youand nobody butyou.

some moments are nice, some arenicer, some are even worthwritingabout.

I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get.

the worst thing," he told me,"is bitterness, people end up sobitter.

What is your advice to young writers?” “Drink, fuck and smoke plenty of cigarettes.

that your power of commandwith simple language wasone of the magnificent things ofour century.(from the poem: result)

I paid, got up, walkedto the door, openedit.I heard the mansay, "that guy'snuts."out on the street Iwalked northfeelingcuriouslyhonored.