Make voyages. Attempt them. There's nothing else.

Is a lifetime long enough to hold the regret that I have for that fantastically aborted but crazily sweet love affair?

We're all of us guinea pigs in the laboratory of God. Humanity is just a work in progress.

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

A man, when he burns, leaves only a handful of ashes. No woman can hold him. The wind must blow him away.

The only thing worse than a liar is a liar that's also a hypocrite!

We're left alone with each other. We have to creep close to each other and give gentle little nudges with our paws and our muzzles before we can slip into sleep and rest for the next day's playtime.