as a child i suppose i was not quite normal. my happiest times were when i was left alone in the house on a saturday.

you are on the freeway threading through traffic now, moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful and so disappointing because we are all so alike and so different.

beware those quick to praise for they need praise in return beware those who are quick to censor they are afraid of what they do not know beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone beware the average man the average woman beware their love, their love is average seeks average

If I have any advice to anybody it's this: take up watercolor painting.

Not everybody thought they could be a dentist or an automobile mechanic but everybody knew they could be a writer.

I never met another man I'd rather be. And even if that's a delusion, it's a lucky one.

I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love, and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of me.