I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.

There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.

Do I like to write? Why? About what? Will I give up and say, "Living and feeding a man's insatiable guts and begetting children occupies my whole life. Don't have time to write"?

When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn't want it, you cannot take it back. It's gone forever.

I am still raw. I say I may be back. You know what lies are for. Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.

The sky leans on me, me, the one upright among all horizontals.

I liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a baby pickled in a laboratory jar for me to look at, I'd stop and look so hard I never forgot it.