They told me to take a streetcar named Desire and then transfer to one called Cemeteries and ride six blocks and get off at - Elysian Fields!

Oh, you can't describe someone you're in love with!

Oh, Jacques, we're used to each other, we're a pair of captive hawks caught in the same cage, and so we've grown used to each other. That's what passes for love at this dim, shadowy end of the Camino Real.

Being disappointed is one thing and being discouraged is something else. I am disappointed but I am not discouraged.

And funerals are pretty compared to deaths.

It is, perhaps more than anything else, the arrest of time which has taken place in a completed work of art that gives certain plays their feeling of depth and significance.

I cannot write any sort of story unless there is at least one character in it for whom I have physical desire.