If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.

...in that drunken place you would like to hand your heart to her and say touch it but then give it back.

The writer has no responsibility other than to jack off in bed alone and write a good page.

I wasn’t going anywhere and neither was the rest of the world. We were all just hanging around waiting to die and meanwhile doing little things to fill the space. Some of use weren’t even doing little things. We were vegetables.

A man needed somebody. There wasn't anybody around, so you had to make up somebody, make him up to be like a man should be. It wasn't make-believe or cheating. The other way was make-believe and cheating: living your life without a man like him around.

yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut

I've found out why men sign their names to their works- not that they created them but more than the others did not.