“I love the night passionately. I love it as I love my country, or my mistress, with an instinctive, deep, and unshakeable love. I love it with all my senses: I love to see it, I love to breathe it in, I love to open my ears to its silence, I love my whole body to be caressed by its blackness. Skylarks sing in the sunshine, the blue sky, the warm air, in the fresh morning light. The owl flies by night, a dark shadow passing through the darkness; he hoots his sinister, quivering hoot, as though he delights in the intoxicating black immensity of space. ”

“I will greet this day with love in my heart. And how will I do this? Henceforth will I look on all things with love and be born again. I will love the sun for it warms my bones; yet I will love the rain for it cleanses my spirit. I will love the light for it shows me the way; yet I will love the darkness for it shows me the stars. I will welcome happiness as it enlarges my heart; yet I will endure sadness for it opens my soul.”

“I love the sunrise, but not as much as I love you. Will you pass me my midnight-black blindfold?”

“A dam inside my own heart opened up, and the feelings of heaviness and unease lifted like wind against the winter sky. I loved him. I loved his slow wit and his gruff demeanor and his tender disposition. I loved his endless empathy and his world-weary cynicism and his innocence. I loved that he was a walking, breathing paradox. I loved his lank hair and his iron earring and the tooth missing at the back of his mouth. I loved the way he laughed, music incomparable to any song, and the way he smiled, like you could see the child in him and the animal in him and the man in him all at once. I loved that he listened to crappy music, the kind that made me want to put my head through a wall, and I loved the charcoal stains on his knuckles and the pencils he tucked behind his ears. I loved that he told me to shut up as though I could actually say anything. I loved that he made me feel as though I could. I loved his short fingers and his rough palms and his long legs and his flat belly. I loved that he liked to read Kerouac but didn't know how to pronounce Kerouac. I loved his brown skin and his blue tattoos and his tempestuous blue eyes. I loved that he loved the land. I loved him. I loved him. Oh, God. I loved him.”

“My favorite color is black because I love the night sky, black licorice, and I feel sorry for the color black because no one ever chooses it as their favorite.”

“I love my job. I love the pay!~I love it more and more each day.~I love my boss, he is the best!~I love his boss and all the rest.~I love my office and its location. I hate to have to go on vacation.~I love my furniture, drab and grey, and piles of paper that grow each day!~I think my job is swell, there's nothing else I love so well.~I love to work among my peers, I love their leers, and jeers, and sneers.~I love my computer and its software; I hug it often though it won't care.~I love each program and every file, I'd love them more if they worked a while. ~I'm happy to be here. I am. I am.~I'm the happiest slave of the Firm, I am.~I love this work. I love these chores.~I love the meetings with deadly bores.~I love my job - I'll say it again - I even love those friendly men.~Those friendly men who've come today, in clean white coats to take me away!!!!!”