he used to think that he wanted to be good, he wanted to be kind, he wanted to be brave and wise, but it was all pretty difficult. He wanted to be loved, too, if he could fit it in.

The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alivewith chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names.

Sometimes I don't know whether I'm real or whether I'm a character in one of my novels.

He was so terrible that he was no longer terrible, only dehumanized.

I was within and without. Simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.

Kiss me now, love me now.

The hangover became a part of the day as well allowed-for as the Spanish siesta.