Here came the waitress. She had on a mini-skirt, high heels, see-through blouse with padded brassiere. Everything was too small for her: her outfit, the world, her mind. Her face was hard as steel. When she smiled it hurt. It hurt her and it hurt me. She kept smiling. That smile was so false the hairs on my arms rose. I looked away.
To do a dull thing with style – now that’s what I call art.
The poem has some value, believe me. It keeps you from going totally mad.
The cat is the beautiful devil.
People don’t need love. What they need is success in one form or another. It can be love but it needn’t be.
Justice is everywhere and it’s working.
Love it or leave it.
The whole world is caught in her glance and at last the universe is magnificent.
People lack originality.
She’s mad, but she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.
Let’ em learn or let’ em die.
Dogs and angels are not very far apart.
Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.
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