So until we meet again, I am thinking of you always; I love you; I wish you were here...in my arms.

... what I fear in writing is the safe decision.

To learn and to love, that is what we are here for, any activity which is not grounded in one of these two is a waste of time.

Paris was a universe whole and entire unto herself, hollowed and fashioned by history; so she seemed in this age of Napoleon III with her towering buildings, her massive cathedrals, her grand boulevards and ancient winding medieval streets - as vast and indestructible as nature itself.

The fact that I loved you was the greatest lie I have ever lived.

The atheism and nihilism of my earlier years now seems shallow, and even a bit cocky.

Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. I lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is.