... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.

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.

Love your self's self where it lives.

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

And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope

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

Somebody who should have been born is gone.