Self-consciousness is the destroyer of erotic joy.

A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.

Screenwriting is an opportunity to fly first class, be treated like a celebrity, sit around the pool and be betrayed.

He's never quite got the trick of conversation, tending to hear in dissenting views, however mild, a kind of affront, an invitation to mortal combat.

The world should take note: not everything is getting worse.

He knew these last lines by heart and mouthed them now in the darkness. My reason for life. Not living, but life. That was the touch. And she was his reason for life, and why he must survive.

...falling in love could be achieved in a single word—a glance.