Nothing holds love together like shared vice or collusive perversion.

One day the ordinariness will be terminally punctuated by the extraordinary full stop of death.

We go to the past to lay the blame - since the past can't argue. We go to our past selves to account for our present miseries.

The flesh had infinity in it. I must know every inch by touch yet every inch renewed its mystery the instant my hand moved on. Delightful endless futility.

If Im going to invest the time in a novel, I want something more than the entertainment you get out of most genre fiction.

The message is clear: By all means become an abomination -- but only while unhinged by grief or wrath.

When I see gurgling retarded children (that's God's doing, by the way, not mine) happily styling their hair with their own stinking mards, I think of Adam in those pre-marital days. I know he's your great-to-the-nth-degree-granddad and all - but I'm afraid he was rather an imbecile.