I sit at my window and the words fly past me like birds — with God's help I catch some.

If I was bound for hell, let it be hell. No more false heaven. No more damned magic.

Would you like a whiskey?' I say. 'I've got some.' (That's original. I bet nobody's ever thought of that way of bridging the gap before.)

I watched her die many times. In my way, not in hers. In sunlight, in shadow, by moonlight, by candlelight. In the long afternoons when the house was empty. Only the sun was there to keep us company. We shut him out. And why not? Very soon she was as eager for what's called loving as I was - more lost and drowned afterwards.

that expression you get in your eyes when you are very tired and everything is like a dream and you are starting to know what things are like underneath what people say they are.

Something came out from my heart into my throat and then into my eyes.

I want more of this feeling - fire and wings.