You imagine the carefully pruned, shaped thing that is presented to you is truth. That is just what it isn't. The truth is improbable, the truth is fantastic; it's in what you think is a distorting mirror that you see the truth.

I am the only real truth I know.

I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness.

Even the one moment that you thought was your eternity fades out and is forgotten and dies.

It's funny, he said, have you ever thought that a girl's clothes cost more than the girl inside them?

I've been so ridiculous all my life that a little bit more or a little bit less hardly matters now.

When I think about it, if I had to choose, I'd rather be happy than write.