Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.

As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.

I have been cut in two.

Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind

I am not at home in myself. I am my own stranger.

We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!

I suffer for birds and fireflies but not frogs, she said, and threw him across the room. Kaboom! Like a genie out of a samovar, a handsome prince arose in the corner of the bedroom.