If your not annoying somebody, you're not alive.

I don't think it's a question of whether you eat meat. It's a question of what kind of meat, and where it comes from.

Nevertheless, blood is thicker than water, as anyone knows who has tasted both.

There is something reassuring about the toilets. Bodily functions at least remain democratic. Everybody shits.

He doesn't know which is worse, a past he can't regain or a present that will destroy him if he looks at it too clearly. Then there's the future. Sheer vertigo.

The characters [of The Tempest] have always been favorites of mine. It is one of his meditations on art - what it does.

The temptation is to stay inside; to subside into the kind of recluse whom neighborhood children regard with derision and little awe; to let the hedges and weeds grow up, to allow the doors to rust shut, to lie on my bed in some gown-shaped garment and let my hair lengthens and spread out over the pillow and my fingernails to sprout into claws, while candle wax drips onto the carpet. But long ago I made a choice between classicism and romanticism. I prefer to be upright and contained—an urn in daylight.