Everytime you grab at love you will lose a snowflake of your memory

Other people singing my songs is something that I've never been casual about. I've always been very touched by it and I always go into immediate critical suspension.

Everybody knows that you've been faithful, give or take a night or two.

My two great heroes are W. B. Yeats and Federico Garcia Lorca.

Love is a fire/It burns everyone/It disfigures everyone/It is the world's excuse for being ugly.

In Montreal spring is like an autopsy. Everyone wants to see the inside of the frozen mammoth. Girls rip off their sleeves and the flesh is sweet and white, like wood under green bark. From the streets a sexual manifesto rises like an inflating tire, “the winter has not killed us again!

I am an old scholar, better-looking now than when I was young. That's what sitting on your ass does to your face.