I did it to myself. It wasn't society... it wasn't a pusher, it wasn't being blind or being black or being poor. It was all my doing.

My sorrows appear to have sprouted gills and a functional liver; I can't seem to drown them in alcohol.

I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some bline, random disaster, or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of death from being a total surprise.

Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism.

Those [figures] are just what we anticipated.

With a $40 million budget, I would say that $500,000 is an adequate reserve in that fund.