“Hey!" he shouted. "This is my fucking Lake of Death. I have complete and utter exclusive rights to sailing this lake. Get the fuck off my lake!”
“Fuck balls, it's the bitch in the lake!”
“I didn't know till then the stars, in flakesof snow come down to fuck the earth, the lake.”
“All of writing is a huge lake. There are great rivers that feed the lake, like Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky. And then there are mere trickles, like Jean Rhys. All that matters is feeding the lake. I don't matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake.”
“The lake of fire awaits my lady”
“There is no lake at Camp Green Lake.”