The scissors cut the long-grown hair; The razor scrapes the remnant fuzz. Small-jawed, weak-chinned, big-eyed, I stare At the forgotten boy I was.

The - writing is a kind of act of aggression, and a person who is not aggressive in his normal, may I say, intercourse with humanity might well be an aggressive writer.

It's a man's world, they say; but in its daily textures it is a world created by and for women.

Everybody who tells you how to act has whiskey on their breath.

As I get older, my childhood self becomes more accessible to me, but selectively, in images as stylized and suspect as moments remembered from a novel read years ago.

Man is a means for turning things into spirit and turning spirit into things.

Why does life feel, to us as we experience it, so desperately urgent and so utterly pointless at the same time?