While Time, The endless idiot, runs screaming round the world.

A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lillies of the swamp.

Falling in love is the easiest thing in the world. It's standing in love that matters.

They are the we of me.

Nothing is so musical as the sound of pouring bourbon for the first drink on a Sunday morning. Not Bach or Schubert or any of those masters.

His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.

I live with the people I create and it has always made my essential loneliness less keen.