"At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon."
"I was sentimental about many things: a woman’s shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, “I’m going to pee…”; hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking, talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes, the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3 am; being told you snore, hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce, but always carrying on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because she’s now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picnics; even jails; her dull friends, your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side, and her doing the same; sleeping together…"
"how stupid of me; to think I was the only flower in your garden."
"Sunshine all the time makes a desert."
"I love Art because every bit of it makes me afraid. Drawing her eyes, his hands, getting the tone right, everything—constant fear. And that fear eaten and the bitterness digested has increased the courage of my life tenfold."
"I just hope that one day—preferably when we’re both blind drunk—we can talk about it."
"You are like night, calmed, constellated.Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true."