One day some as yet unborn scholar will recognize in the clock the machine that has tamed the wilds.

I said to myself, 'If you don't sit down to it today, when will you ever sit down to it?'

he knows too much about himself to subject her to a morning after, when he will be cold, surly, impatient to be alone.

I am not the we of anyone

I don't think we are ready to die, any of us, not without being escorted.

As for September 11, let us not too easily grant the Americans possession of that date on the calendar. Like May 1 or July 14 or December 25, September 11 may seem full of significance to some people, while to other people it is just another day.

There is nothing more humanly beautiful than a woman's breasts. Nothing more humanly beautiful, nothing more humanly mysterious than why men should want to caress, over and over again, with paintbrush or chisel or hand, these oddly curved fatty sacs, and nothing more humanly endearing than our complicity (I mean the complicity of women) in their obsession.