And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.

I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.

You cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.

Miracles occur, If you dare to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.

I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who ski better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.

Then I thought, "No, I broke it myself. I broke it on purpose to pay myself back for being such a heel.

Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.