A language is everything you do.

A reader can never tell if it's a real thimble or an imaginary thimble, because by the time you're reading it, they're the same. It's a thimble. It's in the book.

I used to think of my body as an instrument, of pleasure, or a means of transportation, or an implement for the accomplishment of my will.

In my dreams of this city I am always lost.

If you want what's in the package you should at least know how to get the string off, is what I say.

The farther north you go, the fewer fruits and vegetables there are. What kind of apple trees do you suggest the Inuit get their apples from? And how much oil is expended transporting such things out there? It's an equation.

Although from you I far must roam, do not be broken hearted. We two, who in the souls are one, are never truly parted.