You are young, and in love. Every young man in your position is the most miserable young man who ever lived.

Adult helplessness destroys children. Or it forces them to become tiny adults of their own.

He was alone in the darkness once more, but the darkness became brighter and brighter until it was burning like the sun.

Everything has to be intrinsic plot-wise in the same way, to use the Linda Williams analogy but to move it on a bit, as musicals - in old musicals, like in an old Cole Porter musical, you get the action, then they do a song, which reflects a moment - everything stops while that is being sung - and then you restart. These days in most musicals, the plot keeps moving through the song. I think it would be nice if someone constructed some pornography where the sex continues to propel you through the story.

This is the only country in the world, that worries about what it is. The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.

But I have always thought that these tulips must have had names. They were red, and orange and red, and red and orange and yellow, like the ember in a nursery fire of a winter's evening. I remember them.

You don’t want to ask after the health of anyone, if you’re a funeral director. They think maybe you’re scouting for business.