Some things, when they change, never do return to the way they once were. Butterflies for instance, and women who've been in love with the wrong man too often.

That is how you know you've left childhood behind-when you wish for time to go backward.

When I read Jerome D. Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye" that was the first time I felt my mind blow open. I thought that book was speaking to me. I was 12 or 13 when I read that. I read everything on my mother's bookshelves.

I have crossed over to a place where I never thought I’d be. I am someone I would have never imagined. A secret. A dream. I am this, body and soul. Burn me. Drown me. Tell me lies. I will still be who I am.

People hide their truest nature. I understood that; I even applauded it. What sort of world would it be if people bled all over the sidewalks, if they wept under trees, smacked whomever they despised, kissed strangers, revealed themselves?

The moon is always jealous of the heat of the day, just as the sun always longs for something dark and deep.

That was the way love was, invisible, there whether or not you wanted to see it or admit to it.