\n\n\nI told them that when I was in good spiritual shape I ate off one dish and then washed it immediately. ^ref-45496
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\n\n\n“You’re a whore.” “Yeah? Well, if there’s anything worse than a whore it’s a bore.” ^ref-2342
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\n\n\nI disliked weekends. Everybody was out on the streets. Everybody was playing Ping-Pong or mowing their lawn or polishing their car or going to the supermarket or the beach or to the park. Crowds everywhere. ^ref-56387
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\n\n\n“Are you famous? If you went to New York City, would anybody know you?” ^ref-24918
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\n\n\nI was proud to be with Mindy. She walked with style. So many women with good bodies just slouched along like overloaded creatures. Mindy flowed. ^ref-39670
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\n\n\nI figured that anybody who would read their novel aloud to others had to be suspect. If that wasn’t the old kiss of death, nothing was. ^ref-20367
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\n\n\nThere were at least a dozen of them at the track every day, who told attractive women what big winners they were, hoping that somehow they would end up in bed with them. Maybe they didn’t even think that far; maybe they only hoped vaguely for something without being quite sure what it was. ^ref-32955
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\n\n\nThe truth, however, was that there was very little greatness. It was almost nonexistent, invisible. But you could be sure that the worst writers had the most confidence, the least self-doubt. ^ref-47239
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\n\n\nThat’s the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen. ^ref-7185
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\n\n\nNothing was ever in tune. People just blindly grabbed at whatever there was: communism, health foods, zen, surfing, ballet, hypnotism, group encounters, orgies, biking, herbs, Catholicism, weight-lifting, travel, withdrawal, vegetarianism, India, painting, writing, sculpting, composing, conducting, backpacking, yoga, copulating, gambling, drinking, hanging around, frozen yogurt, Beethoven, Bach, Buddha, Christ, TM, H, carrot juice, suicide, handmade suits, jet travel, New York City, and then it all evaporated and fell apart. People had to find things to do while waiting to die. I guess it was nice to have a choice. ^ref-36820
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\n\n\nThere were some pretty girls there but they just looked and smiled, or they didn’t look and they didn’t smile. I figured the ones who didn’t smile hated me because of my attitude towards women. Fuck them. ^ref-42077
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\n\n\nSomewhere on the freeway the instructions got confusing or I became confused. I have a great dislike both for freeways and for instructions. ^ref-19497
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\n\n\nThey looked as if nothing had ever touched them—all well-mothered, protected, with a soft sheen of contentment. None of them had ever been in jail, or worked hard with their hands, or even gotten a traffic ticket. ^ref-4544
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\n\n\nI walked out, got in the Volks and drove up to the liquor store next to the supermarket. I like to change liquor stores frequently because the clerks got to know your habits if you went in night and day and bought huge quantities. I could feel them wondering why I wasn’t dead yet and it made me uncomfortable. ^ref-37092
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\n\n\nThe only time a man needed a lot of women was when none of them were any good. ^ref-35740
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