I'm starved for love. Not ordinary love but real love. The love that's like music or something.

And no. I must not go on thinking. For the pain will never go away. You just go on and live. In the dust of desertion. Still falling where last I loved.

Rid the mind of knowledge when looking for pleasure. Or start thinking and find a lot of pain.

Revenge is what I want. Nothing but pure unadulterated revenge. But my mother brought me up to be a lady.

When I die, I want to decompose in a barrel of porter and have it served in all the pubs in Dublin. I wonder would they know it was me?

Expect the worst and that's what you'll get only it will be much worse.

I'm starved for love. Not ordinary love but real love. The love that's like music or something.