“and even the trees we walkedunderseemedless thantreesand more like everythingelse.”

“It was sad, it was sad, it was sad. When Betty came back we didn't sing or laugh, or even argue. We sat drinking in the dark, smoking cigarettes, and when we went to sleep, I didn't put my feet on her body or she on mine like we used to. We slept without touching. We had both been robbed.”

“few writers like other writers' works. The only time they like them is when they are dead or if they have been for a long time. Writers only like to sniff their own turds. I am one of those. I don't even like to talk to writers, look at them or worse, listen to them. And the worst is to drink with them, they slobber all over themselves, really look piteous, look like they are searching for the wing of the mother.I'd rather think about death than about other writers. Far more pleasant.”

“We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.”

“in this land some of us fuck more than we die but most of us die better than we fuck”

“Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can't even cry.”

“There is a place in the heart that will never be filled; a space. And even during the best moments, and the greatest times, we will know it.”