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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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I was still proud of that momentback thenwhen Jed handed methat pintandI draineda third of itwith all the discipleswatching.damn, there was no wayit seemedwe could everlosebut we did.and it took me3 or 4 decades tomove on just alittle.and Jed,if you are still heretonight,(I forgot to tell youthen)here's a thanksfor that drink.
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Much publishing is done through politics, friends, and natural stupidity.
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Man was born to die. What did it mean? Hanging around and waiting. Waiting for the ‘A train.’ Waiting for a pair of big breasts on some August night in a Vegas hotel room. Waiting for the mouse to sing. Waiting for the snake to grow wings. Hanging around.
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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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'Every man is a poet'
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It's 4:30 in the morning, it's always 4:30 in the morning.
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'Fay had a spot of blood on the left side of her mouth and I took a wet cloth and wiped it off. Women were meant to suffer; no wonder they asked for constant declarations of love.'
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But I couldn't help thinking, god, all these mailmen do is drop in letters and get laid. This is the job for me, oh yes yes yes.
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Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience.
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'Baby,' I said. 'I'm a genius but nobody knows it but me.'
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It was the poor part of town-small houses and courts with mailboxes full of spiders, mailboxes hanging by one nail, old women inside rolling cigarettes and chewing tobacco and humming to their canaries and watching you, an idiot lost in the rain.