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We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.

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my gardenin the sun and in the rainand in the day and in the nightpain is a flowerpain is flowersblooming all the time.

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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 trivia...more

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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....more

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Find what you love and let it kill you.

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Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one pers...more

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we know God is dead, they’ toldus, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybeit was the upper case. you were one of thebest female poets and I told the ...more

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Ya got cigarettes?” she asks. “Yes,” I say,“I got cigarettes.” “Matches?” she asks.“Enough to burn Rome.” “Whiskey?”“Enough whiskey for a Mississippi ...more

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my mother, poor fish,wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times aweek, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!why don't you ever smile?"and then sh...more

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She's mad, but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire.

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Love is for real men.

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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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You bitch," I whispered, "I love you." Then I came.

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If I never see you again I will always carry youinsideoutsideon my fingertipsand at brain edgesand in centerscentersof what I am ofwhat remains.

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I know that some nightin some bedroomsoonmy fingers willriftthroughsoft cleanhairsongs such as no radioplaysall sadness, grinninginto flow.