And Love Was Lightning And Remembrance

I Went Home Each Night Dizzy And Sick. He Was Murdering Me With The Sound Of His Voice.

Show Me A Man Who Lives Alone And Has A Perpetually Clean Kitchen, And 8 Times Out Of 9 I'll Show You A Man With Detestable Spiritual Qualities.

He Asked, "what Makes A Man A Writer?" "well," I Said, "it's Simple. You Either Get It Down On Paper, Or Jump Off A Bridge.

In New York You've Got To Have All The Luck.

A Day Of Minor Profit Or Prophet Led To A Night Of Drunkenness.