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there were these peopleon the ground,they were reaching up theirarms and trying to pull medownbutthey couldn't doit.I felt like pissing onthem.they were sojealous.all they had to do wasto work their wayslowly up to itas I haddone.such people thinksuccess grows ontrees.you and I,we knowbetter.
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Once a woman turns against you, forget it. They can love you, then something turns in them. They can watch you dying in a gutter, run over by a car, and they'll spit on you.
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Bad taste creates many more millionaires than good taste.
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Humanity, you never had it to begin with.
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It's possible to love a human being if you don't know them too well.
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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.
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People with no morals often considered themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel hate or love.
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Sometimes I felt that I didn’t even know who I was. All right, I’m Nicky Belane. But check this. Somebody could yell out, ‘Hey, Harry! Harry Martel!’ and I’d most likely answer, ‘Yeah, what is it?’ I mean, I could be anybody, what does it matter?
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'I've given you my time. It's all I've got to give - it's all any man has. And for a pitiful buck and a quarter an hour.'... 'my time so that you can live in your big house on the hill and have all the things that go with it. If anybody has lost anything on this deal, on this arrangement... I've been the loser.
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When I say that basically writing is a hard hustle, I don't mean that it is a bad life, if one can get away with it. It's the miracle of miracles to make a living by the typer.
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You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.
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I have no definite talent or trade, and how I stay alive is largely a matter of magic.
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When everything works best, it's not because you chose writing but because writing chose you. It's when you're mad with it, it's when it's stuffed in your ears, your nostrils, under your fingernails. It's when there's no hope but that.
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I kept writing not because I felt I was so good, but because I felt they were so bad, including Shakespeare, all those. The stilted formalism, like chewing cardboard.
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We're all going to die, all of us; what a circus! That alone should make us love each other, but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities. We are eaten up by nothing.
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Those who have been writing literature have not been writing life.
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I used to live on one candy bar a day - it cost a nickel. I always remember the candy bar was called Payday. That was my payday. And that candy bar tasted so good, at night I would take one bite, and it was so beautiful.
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I thought about taking a shower but I could see the headlines: MAILMAN CAUGHT DRINKING THE BLOOD OF GOD AND TAKING A SHOWER, NAKED, IN A ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. ...I found out later that mail for the church was delivered to the parish house around the corner. But now, of course, I knew where to... shower when I'm down and out.
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When I went to the Yellow Cab Company I passed the Cancer Building and I remembered that there were worse things than looking for a job you didn't want.
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'People don't need love. What they need is success in one form or another. It can be love but it needn't be.'
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Much publishing is done through politics, friends, and natural stupidity.
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a woman candropout of yourlife andforget youreal fast.a womancan't go anywherebut UPafterleaving you,honey.
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I have not worked out my poems with a careful will, falling rather on haphazard and blind formulation of wordage, a more flowing concept, in a hope for a more new and lively path. I do personalize at times, but this only for the grace and elan of the dance.
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Human relationships didn't work anyhow. Only the first two weeks had any zing, then the participants lost their interest. Masks dropped away and real people began to appear: cranks, imbeciles, the demented, the vengeful, sadists, killers. Modern society had created its own kind and they feasted on each other. It was a duel to the death-in a cesspool.