But we are alone, darling child, terribly, isolated each from the other; so fierce is the world's ridicule we cannot speak or show our tenderness; for us, death is stronger than life, it pulls like a wind through the dark, all our cries burlesqued in joyless laughter; and with the garbage of loneliness stuffed down us until our guts burst bleeding green, we go screaming round the world, dying in our rented rooms, nightmare hotels, eternal homes of the transient heart.

I've been working, working, working, and you know, sometimes you look back at your work and you see that it just isn't any good.

Those final weeks, spanning end of summer and the beginning of another autumn, are blurred in memory, perhaps because our understanding of each other had reached that sweet depth where two people communicate more often in silence than in words: an affectionate quietness replaces the tensions, the unrelaxed chatter and chasing about that produce a friendship’s more showy, more, in the surface sense, dramatic moments.

you got to want it to be good, and I don't want it.

Traveling wears me out.

When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended for self-flagellation solely.

It's worth your life to order an omelette in most restaurants. You never know what you're going to get.