But they never last, the golden days. And it can be sad, the sun in the afternoon, can't it? Yes, it can be sad, the afternoon sun, sad and frightening.

I often want to cry. That is the only advantage women have over men — at least they can cry.

All of a writer that matters is in the book or books. It is idiotic to be curious about the person.

As it was in the beginning, ... is now, and ever shall be, world without end.

But they never last, the golden days. And it can be sad, the sun in the afternoon, can't it? Yes, it can be sad, the afternoon sun, sad and frightening.

I am the only real truth I know.

I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know.