“Into the mercy seat I climbMy head is shaved, my head is wiredAnd like a moth that triesTo enter the bright eyeI go shuffling out of lifeJust to hide in death awhileAnd anyway I never lied.”

“Out of sorrow entire worlds have been builtout of longing great wonders have been willedthey're only little tears darling let them spilland lay your head upon my shoulder.”

“I don't believe in an interventionist GodBut I know, darling, that you doBut if I did I would kneel down and ask HimNot to intervene when it came to youNot to touch a hair on your headTo leave you as you areAnd if He felt He had to direct youThen direct you into my armsInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my armsAnd I don't believe in the existence of angelsBut looking at you I wonder if that's trueBut if I did I would summon them togetherAnd ask them to watch over youTo each burn a candle for youTo make bright and clear your pathAnd to walk, like Christ, in grace and loveAnd guide you into my armsInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my armsAnd I believe in LoveAnd I know that you do tooAnd I believe in some kind of pathThat we can walk down, me and youSo keep your candlew burningAnd make her journey bright and pureThat she will keep returningAlways and evermoreInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms”

“Death looms large I guess because it should. It’s the one thing that we as human beings from birth have a right to. It’s the only thing we’ve really got, and I don’t mean to sound bleak about this, but it’s a unifying factor amongst us all.”

“And I wish that I was made of stoneSo that I would not have to seeA beauty impossible to defineA beauty impossible to believeA beauty impossible to endureThe blood imparted in little sipsThe smell of you still on my handsAs I bring the cup up to my lipsNo God up in the skyNo devil beneath the seaCould do the job that you did, babyOf bringing me to my knees”

“Through these days Bunny made increasingly frequent and protracted visits to the bathroom, beating off with a single-minded savagery intense even by Bunny's standards. Now, sitting on the sofa with a large Scotch, his cock feels and looks like something that has been involved in a terrible accident - a cartoon hotdog, maybe, that has made an unsuccessful attempt to cross a busy road.The boy sits beside him and the two of them are locked in a parenthesis of mutual zonkedness. Bunny Junior stares blankly at the encyclopedia open in his lap. His father watches the television, smokes his fag and drinks his whisky, like an automaton. After a time, Bunny turns his head and looks at his son and clocks the way he stares at his weird encyclopedia. He sees him but he can't really believe he is there. What does this kid want? What is he supposed to do with him? Who is he? Bunny feels like an extinct volcano, lifeless and paralysed. Yeah, he thinks, I feel like an extinct volcano - with a weird little kid to look after and a mangled sausage for a dick.”

“I don't particularly believe all love is doomed. But I guess, one is usually kinda suffering from some aborted love affair or association, rather than being at the peak of one. I think it's fairly obvious that a lot more suffering goes on in the name of love than the little happiness you can squeeze out of it.”