Woke up this morning with a terrific urge to lie in bed all day and read. Fought against it for a minute. Then looked out the window at the rain. And gave over. Put myself entirely in the keep of this rainy morning. Would I live my life over again? Make the same unforgivable mistakes? Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.

You're...writing for other writers to an extent-the dead writers whose work you admire, as well as the living writers you like to read.

There was a time when I thought I loved my first wife more than life itself. But now I hate her guts. I do. How do you explain that? What happened to that love? What happened to it, is what I'd like to know. I wish someone could tell me.

I loved you so much once. I did. More than anything in the whole wide world. Imagine that. What a laugh that is now. Can you believe it? We were so intimate once upon a time I can't believe it now. The memory of being that intimate with somebody. We were so intimate I could puke. I can't imagine ever being that intimate with somebody else. I haven't been.

He wondered if she wondered if he were watching her.

That morning she pours Teacher's over my belly and licks it off. That afternoon she tries to jump out the window.