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.

Why should all life be work, when we all can borrow. Let's think only of today, and not worry about tomorrow.

I can't read or sleep. Without hope or youth or money I sit constantly wishing I were dead.

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

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

A southern moon is a sodden moon, and sultry. When it swamps the fields and the rustling sandy roads and the sticky honeysuckle hedges in its sweet stagnation, your fight to hold on to reality is like a protestation against a first waft of ether.

We grew up founding our dreams on the infinite promise of American advertising. I still believe that one can learn to play the piano by mail and that mud will give you a perfect complexion.