I saw that it was all over, put away in a box like a doll no longer cared for, the magical intimacy of our childhood together

Like a cat on a hot tin roof.

And it was about then, about that time, that I began to find life unsatisfactory as an explanation of itself and was forced to adopt the method of the artist of not explaining but putting the blocks together in some other way that seems more significant to him. Which is a rather fancy way of saying I started writing.

Go, then! Go to the moon-you selfish dreamer!

Living with someone you love can be lonelier than living entirely alone, if the on that you love doesn't love you.

I'm tired and it's taking an increasing amount out of me, more than I have to give physically. And that's why I want to move to Sicily and buy that little farm and raise a flock of goats and geese. I find it peaceful ... and it would be a nice way to end life.

A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages.