You’ll see, there are a million ways to kill off the soft parts of yourself.

I knew you could find a certain relief in begging God, it had helped me, but on the other hand, God never answered directly and that was always depressing.

As a child I made a pact with my mother. I agreed that we were doomed, that she and I abided together in a cocoon of melancholy.

Everything was new, now I’m a junkie, I seem to need more severe doses of experience to feel anything.

You’ll see, there are a million ways to kill off the soft parts of yourself.

When you love a woman, you love yourself, and it's terrible really, how it seems perfectly possible to swallow the other. With a man you want to join, you want your ribs to connect like handcuffs. But with a woman if you swallow, she becomes you.

Maybe all spirits flew to Paris, not only French ones. Could you haunt a place you'd never been?