Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.

I thought that Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman. I thought so right up to the moment that I cut his throat.

And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath, the rain came.

But mostly they were lies I told; it wasn't my fault, I couldn't remember, because it was as though I'd been to one of those supernatural castles visited by characters in legends: once away, you do not remember, all that is left is the ghostly echo of haunting wonder.

Then why does Kenneth Anger wear a picture locket on a chain around his neck? On one side of the locket there is a picture of you; on the other there is an image of a frog with an inscription: "Bobby Beausoleil changed into a frog by Kenneth Anger." A voodoo amulet, so to say.

There were hints of sunrise on the rim of the sky, yet it was still dark, and the traces of morning color were like goldfish swimming in ink.

That's all a writer has to write about - what he sees and hears and what not.