The memory of man is as old as misfortune

Frost in January minus 20 for a week. Dead birds frozen on the branch—they fall with the first thaw like ripe fruit—death-ripened. We shall all end like them—just a stain in the snow.

The effective in art is what rapes the emotions of your audience without nourishing its values.

It only takes one match to ignite a haystack, or one remark to fire a mind.

Every man is made of clay and diamond, and no woman can nourish both.

Religion is simply art bastardized out of all recognition.

A diary is the last place to go if you wish to seek the truth about a person. Nobody dares to make the final confession to themselves on paper: or at least, not about love.