Falling in love was simple; one had only to yield. Digesting another person, however, and sustaining love, was bloody work, and not a soft job.

Like you, she will have been with other people, but I've got a feeling there's something between you.

If jealousy was the vindaloo of love, I'd imagined her tongue burning, and such a fire forcing her to spill her truth.

The cruellest thing you can do to Kerouac is reread him at thirty-eight.

If you want something badly enough, you make arrangements. If you don't want it badly enough, you make excuses.

Falling in love was simple; one had only to yield. Digesting another person, however, and sustaining love, was bloody work, and not a soft job.

I've never had any desire to be good. I don't like goodness particularly.