Quotes About Emotion

Some men are crazy, I said, moving toward the door. What do wou mean? I mean, some men are in love with their wives.

Writing is its own intoxication.

Poetry is what happens when nothing else can. (Writing, New Poems Book Three)

cunt and Kant and a happy home

I would rather die than cry. I can't stand hounds can't live without them. I hang my head against the white refrigerator and want to scream like the last weeping of life forever but I am bigger than the mountains.

and I sit there alone with you and Dostoevsky as the real and the artificial heart continues to falter, famished… I love you but don't know what to do.

You look down in the mouth. You all right?" "Lost a woman." "You'll have others and lose them too.

you are good but you are too emotional the way to whip life is to quietly frame the agony,study it and put it to sleep in the abstract. is there anything less abstract than dying everyday and on the last day?

dear J: I feel lucky that I didn't fuck you the first time we met in Houston, but luckier that I didn't fuck you the last time we met in San Francisco. this is the answer to your letter even though I don't know if you'll ever read it. the words are yours but I'll get credit for the poem. you see, it could never have worked, the way I am. B.

I'm sorry, I said, I'm really sorry. I stood up in a cafe and screamed I'm in love, and now you've made a fool of me…

I do not feel good. I've got the sad sads. All I want to do is fuck you.

I emit, I hiss a rather tired and gentle word like shit, then tear this page from the machine. it's your.

Nëse një ditë më dëgjoni të flasë për dashuri, e yje... ju lutem, më vrisni!

She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire.

Don't you wish you were Charles Bukowski? I can paint too. Lift weights. And my little girl think that I am God. Then other times, it's not so good.

I didn't know if I was unhappy. I felt too miserable to be unhappy.

I don't know why, but with each new woman it seemed like the first time, almost as if I had never been with a woman before.

I will remember the hours of kisses our lips raw with love and how you offered me your cunt your soul your insides and how I answered offering you whatever was left of me

I cry when it is fashionable to laugh. I hated you when it would have taken less courage to love.

Oh, you've got a sweet voice, baby, such a sad sad sweet voice, I'd like to fuck you, I thought.

I am bitter sometimes but the taste has often been sweet.

She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire.

Writing is when I fly, writing is when I start fires. Writing is when I take death out of my left pocket, throw him against the wall and catch him as he bounces back.

a poem is a city burning