The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.

We strive for beauty and balance, the sensual over the sentimental.

We don't have a unitary society anymore, you know; it's very fragmented. I look up and down my block in Silverlake and there is a different universe in every house.

without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.

We recived our colouring from the Norsemen,hairy savages who hacked their gods to pieces and hung the flesh from trees.We are the ones who sacked Rome.Fear only feeble old age and death in bed.Don't forget who you are.

My loneliness tasted like pennies.

She laughed so easily when she was happy. But also when she was sad.