I want people to react to my work, to think, to question, to challenge, to cry and laugh and feel.

Not as intolerable as being dead, in my opinion, but I'm very fond of me. I would miss me a lot.

We were locked onto each other as though we had just discovered this incredible thing you could do with two mouths pressing close and moist against each other. And the taste of him... Horrifyingly, unbearably sweet -- sweet in the way crack must feel hitting the bloodstream of an addict after years of staying clean.

I liked you the first time I saw you. You were sitting on the floor surrounded by books, and you looked up when I opened the door and smiled right at me. It felt like you had been waiting for me, like you were welcoming me home.

When you live with a potentially life-threatening condition you get used to the thought of dying. You accept it, you push on. The thing that scared me was the picture of dying slowly and painfully, the loss of independence and identity to illness.

I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?

You got a little bit of an attitude, Mr. English, if you don't mind my saying so. I don't mind.