Our life would be what we made of it--nothing more, nothing less.

She thinks she knows everything that goes on inside me, and she doesn’t know a thing. What did she want from me – to tell the truth all the time? To run around saying it did matter to me that I live in a world where you can grow old and be alone and have to get down on your hands and knees and beg for friends? A place where people just sort of forget about you because you get a little old and your mind’s a bit senile or silly? Did she think that didn’t bother me underneath?

You're a bore, I said to me. You're puny. You're lacking in quality, like a pair of factory-rejected Fruit of the Loom shorts. And this was without considering any sexual problems, since I've never had sex with anyone except myself.

It's kind of spooky when you are caught talking to God everybody thinks you're nuts. They used to call you a prophet.

Be yourself! Be individualistic!' he called out after me. 'But for God's sake get your hair cut. You look like an oddball.

In fact, the thing Lorraine and I liked best about the Pigman was that he didn't go around saying we were cards or jazzy or cool or hip. He said we were delightful . . .

Our life would be what we made of it--nothing more, nothing less.