Drinking Isn't Necessarily The Same As Wanting

Perhaps Someone Will Have Seen Mine, The One I’m Waiting For, Just As I Saw Him, In A Ditch When His Hands Were Making Their Last Appeal And His Eyes No Longer Could See. Someone Who Will Never Know What That Man Was To Me; Someone Whose Name I’ll Never Know.

Finding Yourself In A Hole, At The Bottom Of A Hole, In Almost Total Solitude, And Discovering That Only Writing Can Save You. To Be Without The Slightest Subject For A Book, The Slightest Idea For A Book, Is To Find Yourself, Once Again, Before A Book. A Vast Emptiness. A Possible Book. Before Nothing. Before Something Like Living, Naked Writing, Like Something Terrible, Terrible To Overcome.

The Best Way To Fill Time Is To Waste It.

Before They're Plumbers Or Writers Or Taxi Drivers Or Unemployed Or Journalists, Before Everything Else, Men Are Men. Whether Heterosexual Or Homosexual. The Only Difference Is That Some Of Them Remind You Of It As Soon As You Meet Them, And Others Wait For A Little While.

The Solitude Of Writing Is A Solitude Without Which Writing Could Not Be Produced, Or Would Crumble, Drained Bloodless By The Search For Something Else To Write.