If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin, and say, ‘When you’re ready’.

Women, O, women! They'll find the baddest meanin' in your words & hold it up.

A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.

The song instantly insisted it'd never existed.

Why does any martyr cooperate with his judases?...We see a game beyond the endgame...As Seneca warned Nero: No matter how many of us you kill, you will never kill your successor.

Folks with most to complain about seldom complain most.

How could I know a famished heart will eat its mind? Can kill its body?