“I prefer to let my voice do all the talking for me.”

“I make conversation like I make love to myself—I let my hands do all the talking.”

“There are no words and there is no singing, but the music has a voice. It is an old voice and a deep voice, like the stump of a sweet cigar or a shoe with a hole. It is a voice that has lived and lives, with sorrow and shame, ecstasy and bliss, joy and pain, redemption and damnation. It is a voice with love and without love. I like the voice, and though I can't talk to it, I like the way it talks to me. It says it is all the same, Young Man. Take it and let it be.”

“There are indeed all sorts of men/ who visit here: those who want/ nothing but to talk or hear the soft tones/ of a woman's voice; others prefer/ simply to gaze upon me, my face/ turned from them as they touch/ only themselves. And then there are those,/ of course, whose desires I cannot commit/ to paper.”

“When someone is talking about their job, and they turn to me and ask me what I do, I stare off into space, let my eyes glaze over, and wistfully say, “I often wonder what I’m doing.”

“No one talks about it. No one talks about them at all. “The Ancients prefer discretion,” Mom once told me. But some say it’s because they’re so freakish we’d drop dead of fright. Others say they’re too attractive, too tempting. I prefer this theory.”