That paper--it sits there, open at the employment section. It sits there like a war, and each small advertisement is another trench for a person to dive into. To hope and fight in.

It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.

And then there's the sickness I feel from looking at legs I can't touch, or at lips that don't smile at me. Or hips that don't reach for me. And hearts that don't beat for me.

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

It makes me wonder, Do we spend most of our days trying to remember or forget things? Do we spend most of our time running towards or away from our lives? I don't know.

Time will tell, I suppose, or at least, these pages will.

The only people we want to blame are ourselves, because it will be ourselves that we rely upon.

The thing is, I don't even hate cops. To tell you the truth, I actually feel a little sorry for them.

... because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it. It's the ones in between that test you. They're the ones that bring questions with them.

This perpetual hurry of business and company ruins me in soul if not in body. More solitude and earlier hours!

This world, such as it is, is not tolerable. Therefore I need the moon, or happiness, or immortality, I need something which is perhaps demented, but which is not of this world.

I removed the window [tattoo] because, while I used to spend all my time looking out through windows wishing to be outside, I now live there all the time.

The thought of' the inferiority of the Negro is drilled into him in almost every class he enters and in almost every book he studies.

I'm just kind of lazy and messed up and self-managed - self-mismanaged.

The Irish have a flair for wringing from death the last drop of emotion and they do not quite understand those who react otherwise.

I have a problem with objectifying women, but I don't have a problem playing a guy who objectifies women.

I fell in love once, if love be that cruelty which takes us straight to the gates of Paradise only to remind us they are closed for ever.

You really can't explain how you do the things you do. I can't, anyway. I love certain actors, but sometimes they say the stupidest things about technique. I don't want to say something stupid.

There are grand rewards for those who pick the high hard roads, but those rewards are hidden by years.