Her violence frightened me. She always claimed that I was the jealous one, and I was often jealous, but when I saw things working against me I simply became disgusted and withdrew. Lydia was different. She reacted. She was the Head Cheerleader at the Game of Violence.

And I said to myself that he was the first thing that I had ever missed in my life.

Bad luck for the young poet would be a rich father, an early marriage, an early success or the ability to do anything well.

when I was a boy I used to dream of becoming the village idiot. I used to lie in bed and imagine myself the happy idiot able to get food easily ...and easy sympathy, a planned confusion of not too much love or effort. some would claim that I have succeeded.

I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train ran down along the coast we came to the ocean and then he looked at me and said, it’s not pretty.

Love dries up, I thought as I walked back to the bathroom, even faster than sperm.

We are here to laugh at the odds.