Over and over I'm on the point of giving it up.
I happen to believe that there is an afterlife
A rich poet from Harvard has no sense in his mind, except the aesthetic.
Celibacy is exhausting.
My life is full of mistakes. They're like pebbles that make a good road.
You know, God, the power that makes life, whatever it is, had just to make two things, masculine and feminine, for all this mischief. And made them so there is this entirely different point of view about love and sex