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If moderation is a fault, then indifference is a crime.
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My story is endless. I put in a teletype roll, you know, you know what they are, you have them in newspapers, and run it through there and fix the margins and just go, go - just go, go, go.
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I got all my boyhood in vanilla winter waves around the kitchen stove.
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My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.
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I really hate to write.
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Accept loss forever.
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Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.
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'It was sad to see his tall figure receding in the dark as we drove away, just like the other figures in New York and New Orleans: they stand uncertainly underneth inmense skies, and everything about them is drowned. Where go? what do? what for? - sleep.'
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My witness is the empty sky.
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All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together.
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Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.
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All our best men are laughed at in this nightmare land.
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My manners, abominable at times, can be sweet.
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Avoid the world, it's just a lot of dust and drag and means nothing in the end.
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Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?
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I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life, but that great consciousness of life.
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Symbolism is alright in 'fiction,' but I tell true life stories simply about what happened to people I knew.
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All of life is a foreign country.
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I made myself famous by writing 'songs' and lyrics about the beauty of the things I did and ugliness, too.
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I'm really Wallace Beery in 'The Champ.'
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It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.
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I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
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Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.
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You can't teach the old maestro a new tune.