The priceless galaxy of misinformation called the mind.
Djuna Barnes
Dreams have only the pigmentation of fact.
An image is a stop the mind makes between uncertainties.
We are adhering to life now with our last muscle - the heart.
To love without criticism is to be betrayed.
What is a ruin but time easing itself of endurance?
The night is a skin pulled over the head of day that the day may be in torment.
Time is a great conference planning our end, and youth is only the past putting a leg forward.
A strong sense of identity gives man an idea he can do no wrong; too little accomplishes the same.
New York is the meeting place of the peoples, the only city where you can hardly find a typical American.
Well, isn't Bohemia a place where everyone is as good as everyone else - and must not a waiter be a little less than a waiter to be a good Bohemian?
The heart of the jealous knows the best and most satisfying love, that of the other's bed, where the rival perfects the lover's imperfections.
We are beginning to wonder whether a servant girl hasn't the best of it after all. She knows how the salad tastes without the dressing, and she knows how life's lived before it gets to the parlor door.
Life is painful, nasty and short... in my case it has only been painful and nasty.
After all, it is not where one washes one's neck that counts but where one moistens one's throat.
This head has risen above its hair in a moment of abandon known only to men who have drawn their feet out of their boots to walk awhile in the corridors of the mind.
