Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.

I do not need to get used to your silence. I already know it. I quite possibly love all of it.

Wearing down seven number two pencils is a good day's work.

Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada.

The good parts of a book may be only something a writer is lucky enough to overhear or it may be the wreck of his whole damn life - and one is as good as another.

But you always fall for somebody else and then it's all right. Fall for them but don't let them ruin you.

For we have thought the longer thoughts And gone the shorter way. And we have danced to devils' tunes, Shivering home to pray; To serve one master in the night, Another in the day.