I saw my bulky person in the windows of the passing storefronts and wondered, when will that man there find himself to be loved?

I do not know what it was about that boy but just looking at him, even I wanted to clout him on the head. It was a head that invited violence.

I thought, When a man is properly drunk it is as though he is an a room by himself--there is a physical, impenetrable separation between him and his fellows.

We can all of us be hurt, and no one is exclusively safe from worry and sadness.

Why were you feeling low? Why does anyone? It creeps up on you from time to time.

I had never been with a woman for longer than a night, and they had always been whores. And while throughout each of these speedy encounters I tried to maintain a friendliness with the women, I knew in my heart it was false, and afterward always felt remote and caved in. I had in the last year or so given up whores entirely, thinking it best to go without rather than pantomime human closeness.

All you will get from me is death.