There are times when a lover longs to be also a father and a brother: he is jealous of the years he hasn't shared.

My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course. Ball-point pens are only good for filling out forms on a plane.

It was like having a box of chocolates shut in the bedroom drawer. Until the box was empty it occupied the mind too much.

The argument of danger only applies to those who live in relative safety.

But I'm a bad priest, you see. I know--from experience--how much beauty Satan carried down with him when he fell. Nobody ever said the fallen angels were the ugly ones. Oh, no, they were just as quick and light and . . .

I had committed myself: without love I'd have to go through the gestures of love.

Insecurity twists meanings and poisons trust. In a closely beleaguered city every sentry is a potential traitor.