In all this welter of women I still hadn't got one for myself, not that I was trying too hard, but sometimes I felt lonely to see everybody paired off and having a good time and all I did was curl up in my sleeping bag in the rosebushes and sigh and say bah. For me it was just red wine in my mouth and a pile of firewood

We are nothing. - Tomorrow we may be die. We are nothing. - You and me.

Man, wow, there's so many things to do, so many things to write! How to even begin to get it all down and without modified restraints and all hung-up on like literary inhibitions and grammatical fears.

Some's bastards, some's ain't. That's the score.

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn’t read.

Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea.

We tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new friends.