Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we're opened, we're red.
The great grey beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive.
…there’s nothing in the world more fun than doing something you’re good at.
My life is in the art that I make, and I'm very happy with it.
O little one, My little one, Come with me, Your life is done. Forget the future, Forget the past. Life is over: Breathe your last.
I have the normal complement of anxieties, neuroses, psychoses and whatever else - but I'm absolutely nothing special.