“Give me wine to wash me clean of the weather-stains of cares”
“Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.”
“Hard weather, says the old man. So let it be. Wrap me in the weathers of the earth, I will be hard and hard. My face will wash rain like the stones.”
“Either give me more wine or leave me alone.”
“As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.”
“Even without them touching me, I feel dirty about what I do. Alex does even filthier things but says it all washes off with soap. I don’t believe that. I think it all leaves stains. Indelible stains.”