Life

Just do you. The right people and opportunities will be drawn to that.

The bright side of the planet moves toward darknessAnd the cities are falling asleep, each in its hour,And for me, now as then, it is too much.There is too much world.

No destiny attacks us from outside. But, within him, man bears his fate and there comes a moment when he knows himself vulnerable; and then, as in a vertigo, blunder upon blunder lures him.

The real problem of life is never a lack of time. The real problem of life - in my life - is lack of thanksgiving.

And every place and time an author writes about is imaginary, from Oz to Raymond Chandler's L.A. To Dickens's London.

It seems only yesterday I used to believethere was nothing under my skin but light.If you cut me I could shine.But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,I skin my knees. I bleed.

I do write a lot from personal experience, but I also embellish a bit.

Of course, you were crowned with laurel in the beginning, your gold hair was wreathed with laurel, but the gold is thinning and the laurel has withered. Face it – pitiful monster.

Eventually everyone dies, but death, in various forms and ways, still comes as a shock. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Or they consign you to flames. The flesh sizzles and the bones crackle. Be grateful it happens in that order.

Every day is getting worseDo the same things and they hurtI don't know if I should cryAll I know is that I'm tryin' I wanna believe in you, I wanna believe in you So why can't you be, be good to me....

It's very difficult to keep the line between the past and the present.

The difference between men and women is this--if you catch a woman butt-naked, she tries to cover the private parts with her hands. A man will sit there just like you found him even if he doesn't have much to be proud of.

Drinking myself blind seemed like the next logical step.

We all need ways to express ourselves, and poetry is one of mine.

The house was clean, scrubbed and immaculate, curtains washed, windows polished, but all as a man does it - the ironed curtains did not hang quite straight and there were streaks on the windows and a square showed on the table when a book was moved.

While I thought that I was learning how to live, I’ve been learning how to die.

I have nothing against romance. I believe that we must hold on to the right to dream and to be romantic. But an Indian village is not something that I would romanticize that easily.

I don't believe in magic.'The young boy said. The old man smiled. 'You will when you see her.

We're truly alive when facing the prospect of our own mortality, if you convince yourself that you'll live forever, you'll never really have lived at all.

Looking back, I realise I had to grow up and be responsible at a very tender age.