Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight he had never chosen to bear.

And lastly from that period I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.

Every author ought to write every book as if he were going to be beheaded the day he finished it.

We all have souls of different ages

you once liked me, didn't you?, he asked. LIKED you- I LOVED you. Everybody loved you. You could've had anybody you wanted for the asking.

She was feeling the pressure of the world outside and she wanted to see him and feel his presence beside her and be reassured that she was doing the right thing after all.

Only remember west of the Mississippi it's a little more look, see, act. A little less rationalize, comment, talk.