Put your mouthful of words away and come with me to watch the lilies open in such a field, growing there like yachts, slowly steering their petals without nurses or clocks.

Love? Be it man. Be it woman. It must be a wave you want to glide in on, give your body to it, give your laugh to it, give, when the gravelly sand takes you, your tears to the land. To love another is something like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin; it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.

Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.

The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.

Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.

Somebody who should have been born is gone.