How did you fall in love with New Orleans? At once, madly. Looking back, sometimes I think it was predestined.

The time has come for writers to become inaccessible again. The reason is not some kind of 'mystique' that makes people curious (though it helps), but the fact that no real writers ever lay down anything real in public-they work in solitude, they think hard, and their thoughts are rarely nice or 'friendly.'

Only the poor can create art.

The worst part about zombies raging unchecked is the slow paralysis that they induce in people who aren't quite zombies yet. The rest of us un-zombies turn our heads, hoping the ghouls will just go away.

Cookbooks bear the same relation to real books that microwave food bears to your grandmother?s.

These are the poems of a traveler and a lover who feels both the terror of time passing and the consolation of eternity. From such tension spring lovely poetic objects, ready for intelligent use.

In the grand collage that is Dada, past and future are equally usable.

The evaporation of 4 million who believe in this crap would leave the world a better place.

The peasants of all lands recognize power and they salute it, whether it's good or evil.

Nostalgia is masochism and masochism is something masochists love to share.

It is the job of the market to turn the base material of our emotions into gold.

There is no ´Complete Idiots Guide to Creationism,´ but perhaps one is not needed.

The real technology -behind all our other technologies- is language. It actually creates the world our consciousness lives in.

It's still a mystery to me exactly how I learned the language. [But] I was 19 years old and I had very urgent things to tell girls.