I don't keep my books around. . . they would embarrass me. When I finish writing my books, I kick them in the belly, and have done with them.
If you really wanted to mess me up, you should have got to me earlier.
And it isn't that I'm so unhappy I don't want to live anymore. That's not what it feels like. It feels more like I'm tired and bored and the party's gone on too long and I want to go home. I feel flat and there doesn't seem to be anything to look forward to, so I'd rather call it a day.
It's brilliant, being depressed; you can behave as badly as you like.
It's just that romance, with its dips and turns and glooms and highs, its swoops and swoons and blues, is a natural metaphor for music itself
There isn't so much to be afraid of, out there. I can remember thinking it was funny to find that out, on the last night of my life; I'd spent the rest of it being afraid of everything.
Have you got any soul?" a woman asks the next afternoon. That depends, I feel like saying; some days yes, some days no. A few days ago I was right out; now I've got loads, too much, more than I can handle. I wish I could spread it a bit more evenly, I want to tell her, get a better balance, but I can't seem to get it sorted. I can see she wouldn't be interested in my internal stock control problems though, so I simply point to where I keep the soul I have, right by the exit, just next to the blues.
As a human being, we have everything we need. It's enough suffering to give us incentive to go on, but not so much that we don't know where to turn.
But I suppose there might be good in things, even if we don't see it.
It really depends upon how much money you have in your account. Having a monthly paycheck come in for the rest of your life is extremely important. So it would probably be smart to put some of your money into an annuity, which is a way of buying a monthly pension check.
Intellect doesn't translate across cultures; intuition does.