Todos nós vamos morrer, que circo! Só isso deveria fazer com que amássemos uns aos outros, mas não faz. Somos aterrorizados e esmagados pelas trivialidades, somos devorados por nada.

I sat back down and poured a glass of wine. I left my door open. The moonlight came in with the sounds of the city: juke boxes, automobiles, curses, dogs barking, radios . . . We were all in it together. We were all in one big shit pot together. There was no escape. We were all going to be flushed away.

She was perfect, pure maddening sex, and she knew it, and she played on it, dripped it, and allowed you to suffer for it.

I killed four flies while waiting. Damn, death was everywhere. Man, bird, beast, reptile, rodent, insect, fish didn't have a chance. The fix was in. I didn't know what to do about it. I got depressed. You know, I see a boy at the supermarket, he's packing my groceries, then I see him sticking himself into his own grave along with the toilet paper, the beer and the chicken breasts.

I write fiction.What's fiction ??Fiction is an improvement on life.

she wasn't veryinterestingbut few peopleare.

I like to prowl ordinary placesand taste the people-from a distance.

I like to prowl ordinary places.I feel sorry for us all or glad for us allcaught alive togetherand awkward in that way.there's nothing better than the jokeof usthe seriousness of usthe dullness of us

Sometimes things are just what they seem to be and that's all there is to it.