There was a Greek philosopher who taught that, of all things, not to have been born is the sweetest state. But I believe sleep is the sweetest state. You're dead, yet alive. There's no sensation so exquisite.

Strange: how when a light is extinguished, it's immediately as if it has never been. Darkness fills in again, complete.

It feels good, honey, but it isn't love.

To the west, the Pacific Ocean, which revulses me, for its vastness cannot be fitted into any box.

Ambitious, absorbing, and poignantly moving.

It's impossible to read a distinctive stylist like Faulkner, Joyce, Kafka, Mann, Woolf, James - and many more - without wanting to write, however entirely different one's writing will be.

The institution of marriage is just formalizing an emotion, an attempt to make it seem permanent. The emotion will last or it won't last; nothing can guarantee it.