Anxiety is the beginning of conscience, which is the parent of the soul but is not compatible with innocence.

Irish was a man of parts even if some of them didn't work too well.

Our fingernails match our toenails, match our lipstick match our rouge...The habit of applying warpaint outlasts the battle.

In the mythic schema of all relations between men and women, man proposes, and woman is disposed of.

We must all make do with the rags of love we find flapping on the scarecrow of humanity.

Hope for the best, expect the worst.

I had the brief notion that his heart, pressed flat as a flower, crimson and thin as tissue paper, lay in this file. It was a very thin one.