“Because it was starting to get dark, and because the streets were crowded, I bumped into a googolplex people. Who were they? Where were they going? What were they looking for? I wanted to hear their heartbeats, and I wanted them to hear mine.”

“I saw two statues talking to each other. I didn’t hear what they were saying, perhaps because they were whispering.”

“At that moment I was sure. That I belonged in my skin. That my organs were mine and my eyes were mine and my ears, which could only hear the silence of this night and my faint breathing, were mine, and I loved them and what they could do.”

“If I were the color blue, and you were the color orange, I wouldn't want you around all the time, because who wants to be constantly complimented?”

“You were drunk. I wanted to hear the words when you were of sound mind. Women get drunk all the time and confess their undying love to me.”

“[A] couple I had known - who were old friends - asked me what I was going to work on next. I told them I wanted to write a near future book about AIDS concentration camps. They were vehement in their response: they thought it was a terrible idea. Their words both shocked and saddened me. "Do you really want to write a book about homosexuals?" they asked me. "Won't people who read your work be influenced toward sin?"I notice that I don't hear from them much lately.”