A page with a poem on it is less attractive than a page with a poem on it and some tea stains.

The words we read and words we write never say exactly what we mean. The people we love are never just as we desire them. The two symbola never perfectly match. Eros is in between.

To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.

Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.

Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.

Men know almost nothing about desire, they think it has to do with sexual activity or can be discharged that way. But sex is a substitute, like money or language. Sometimes I just want to stop seeing.

Simply do something else and return to it later to find the problem wasn't a problem at all. Ruptures almost always lead to a stronger project.