...all his longings came out as a kind of disdain for what he longed for.
To apologize for what you most wanted to do, to concede that it was obnoxious, boring, 'vulgar and unsafe' --- that was the worst thing.
He wanted pure compliments, just as he wanted unconditional love.
Now that I had actually made love, more astonishingly now that I had been made love to, the fantasies were subtly undermined.
I like things to reverberate, to be suggestive.
The great wisdom for writers, perhaps for everybody, is to come to understand to be at one with their own tempo.