We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.
My Dear,
Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
-Falsely yours
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.
It was like the beginning of life and laughter. It was the real meaning of the sun
The male, for all his bravado and exploration, is the loyal one, the one who generally feels love. The female is skilled at betrayal and torture and damnation.
I was glad I wasn’t in love, that I wasn’t happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.
I wish to weep
but sorrow is
stupid.
I wish to believe
but belief is a
graveyard.
If I never see you again
I will always carry you
inside
outside
on my fingertips
and at brain edges
and in centers
centers
of what I am of
what remains.
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
What is your advice to young writers?” “Drink, fuck and smoke plenty of cigarettes.
I see a brightportionunder the overhead lightthat shades intodarknessand then into darkerdarknessand I can’t see beyond that.
You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.
I killed four flies while waiting. Damn, death was everywhere. Man, bird, beast, reptile, rodent, insect, fish didn’t have a chance. The fix was in. I didn’t know what to do about it. I got depressed. You know, I see a boy at the supermarket, he’s packing my groceries, then I see him sticking himself into his own grave along with the toilet paper, the beer and the chicken breasts.
Dying should come easy:like a freight train youdon’t hear whenyour back isturned.
I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I’ll be ready.
To me, nudity is a joke. I don’t think nude people are very attractive at all. I like my women fully clothed. I like to imagine what might be under there. It might not be the standard thing. Imagine, stripping a woman down, and she has a body like a little submarine. With periscope, propellers, torpedoes. That would be the one for me. I’d marry her right off and be faithful to the end.
My Dear,Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.-Falsely yours
Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.
I can see wherecreation oftenstops while thebody still livesand oftendoes not careto.the death of lifebefore lifedies.