So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on the shore and merely existed?

I have a secret life that’s secret only to me. It’s the nights I can’t remember that I’m remembered for.

I saw the best mind of my generation run down by the drunken taxi-cab of absolute reality.

A lot of people thought I was dead but, hey, you don’t write any postcards when you’re on a road to self discovery.

Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it’s always your choice.

To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.

…I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.