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

And may my bronze name / touch always her thousand fingers / grow brighter with her weeping / until I am fixed like a galaxy / and memorized / in her secret and fragile skies.

They ended every speech with the word hiro, which means: like I said. Thus each man took responsibility for intruding into the inarticulate murmur of the spheres. To hiro they added the word koue, a cry of joy or distress, according to whether it was sung or howled. Thus they essayed to piece the mysterious curtain which hangs between all talking men: at the end of every utterance a man stepped back, so to speak, and attempted to interpret his words to the listener, attempted to subvert the beguiling intellect with the noise of true emotion.

When you're younger, you do have that thing that you were talking about where the mouth goes dry. I mean you have reactions, and you do fall in love.

You were Marlon Brando, I was Steve McQueen, you were K.Y. Jelly, I was Vaseline.

I've forgotten most of what I've read and, frankly, it never seemed very important to me or to the world.

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