I wish I could write a beautiful book to break those hearts that are soon to cease to exist: a book of faith and small neat worlds and of people who live by the philosophies of popular songs.

Looking for love is like asking for a new point of departure ... another chance in life.

I remember every single spot of light that ever gouged a shadow beside your bones.

["The Sun Also Rises" is about] bullfighting, bullslinging and bullsh[*]t.

memories should be sharp when one has nothing else to live for

I don’t suppose I really know you very well - but I know you smell like the delicious damp grass that grows near old walls and that your hands are beautiful opening out of your sleeves and that the back of your head is a mossy sheltered cave when there is trouble in the wind and that my cheek just fits the depression in your shoulder.

Love is bitter and all there is, and that the rest is for the emotional beggars of the earth.