I collected men with interesting names. I already knew a Socrates. He was tall and ugly and intellectual and the son of some big Greek movie producer in Hollywood, but also a Catholic, which ruined it for both of us.

Why do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled “enemy?

I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.

It was my first big chance, but here I was, sitting back and letting it run through my fingers like so much water.

But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.

I feel occasionally my skull will crack, fatigue is continuous - I only go from less exhausted to more exhausted & back again.

Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently.