That kind of tenderness couldn't be permitted to last. You only got a taste, enough to know what perfection meant, and then you paid for it the rest of your life. Like the guy chained to a rock, who stole fire. The gods made an eagle eat his liver for all eternity. You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.

In our exterior life, we can be only one person. But in our imagination, we can be anyone, anywhere.

How easy I was. Like a limpet I attached myself to anything, anyone who showed me the least attention.

A cliché is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.

I decided that if I was never going to sell anything as long as I lived, I might as well do what I want to do 'cause then at least I would've done what I wanted to do in life. What's that worth?

We have no home, she told me. I am your home.

What was the point in such loneliness among people. At least if you were by yourself, you had a good reason to be lonely.