“Despite what pretty poets say, the night is only half the day.”

“There is a curious paradox that no one can explain. Who understands the secret of the reaping of the grain? Who understands why Spring is born out of Winter’s laboring pain, or why we must all die a bit before we grow again? I do not know the answer; I merely know it’s true. I hurt them for that reason, and myself a little bit too.”

“You're...standing...in...my...KUMQUATS!”

“Deep in Decemberit's nice to remember without a hurt the heart is hollow.”

“He says his aim is poetry. One does not aim at poetry with pistols. At poets, perhaps.”

“What is wrong with guys? Half are molting; half are nothing but undergrowth.”

“...But he was a good landlord. When my heater stopped working in mid-December, it took him only two weeks to get it fixed. Of course, it took me knocking on his door in need of a warm place to sleep to get it that way, but one night on his sofa, where I’d suddenly developed night terrors and epilepsy, and that puppy was running like a Mercedes the next day. It was awesome.”