I'm seventeen and I'm crazy.

At least you were a fool about the right things

Whoever he was or whatever he was and no matter how different and crazy he seemed, he was not crazy.

If you did not write every day, the poisons would accumulate and you would begin to die, or act crazy or both-you must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

Sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads.

You learn to live with your crazy enthusiasms which nobody else shares, and then you find a few other nuts like yourself, and they're your friends for a lifetime. That's what friends are, the people who share your crazy outlook and protect you from the world, because nobody else is going to give a damn what you're doing, so you need a few other people like yourself.