I Have Thousands Of Opinions

I Look Upon Another's Insistence On The Merits Of His Or Her Life - Duties, Intellect, Accomplishment - And See That Most Of It Is Nonsense.

Nothing I Have Ever Written Has Been Admired As Much As The Announcement Of My Death.

Being Ill Like This Combines Shock - This Time I Will Die - With A Pain And Agony That Are Unfamiliar, That Wrench Me Out Of Myself.

God Is An Immensity, While This Disease, This Death, Which Is In Me, This Small, Tightly Defined Pedestrian Event, Is Merely And Perfectly Real, Without Miracle—or Instruction.

I Was Always Crazy About New York, Dependent On It, Scared Of It - Well, It Is Dangerous - But Beyond That There Was The Pressure Of Being Young And Of Not Yet Having Done Work You Really Liked, Trademark Work, Breakthrough Work