Do you know what it means to be loved by Death?... Do you know what it means to have Death know your name?

I was typing away while everybody was dropping acid and smoking grass. I was known as my own square.

Sweet to think on it, that when we are last weary of all this world there is the rising sun

Then, are you master of us all? You didn't teach her that. Was she supposed to imbibe it from my quiet subservience?

In spite of all the refinements of civilization that conspired to make art--the dizzying perfection of the string quartet or the sprawling grandeur of Fragonard's canvases--beauty was savage. It was as dangerous and lawless as the earth had been eons before man had one single coherent thought in his head or wrote codes of conduct on tablets of clay. Beauty was a Savage Garden.

And I realized that I’d tolerated him this long because of self-doubt.

Some mysteries are simply irresistible,” she said. “They have components that alter a life.