You cannot be loved by someone who doesn't want to know you.
THERE WERE MORNINGS WHEN VINCENT FELT LIKE THE last hippie in the world. The Last Hippie. The phrase assumed a kind of tragic grandeur as he stood in the bathroom of his Oak Street flat, fluffing his...
It occurred to Michael that this was the great perk of being loved: someone to wait for you, someone to tell you that it will get easier up ahead. Even when it might not be true.
If I had my way...We would lock ourselves away from that madness out there...
It’s time to get mad, Michael. Niceness doesn’t count for shit!
Michael’s generation—its history of fighting disease and bigotry—sometimes made him grumpier than Ben would like him to be, but he knew what he’d found in Michael: a gift for intimacy like none Ben ha...
Thack seemed to sort something out for a moment. Sometimes I watch him when he’s playing with Harry or digging in the yard. And I think: This is it, this is the guy I’ve waited for all my life. Then t...
The little pool was lighted now, the same glowing green-or so I imagined-as the eyes of the cats who slept in the shadows around it.
Nobody's happy. What's happy? Happiness is over when the lights come on.The older woman poured herself a glass of sangria. Screw that, she said quietly.What?Screw that. Wash your mouth out. Who taught...
She was Anna Madrigal, a self-made woman, and there was no one else in the world exactly like her.
Garbage, you know, is very revealing.It beats the shit out of tarot cards.
Needing and loving are two different things.
Don't listen when they scoffThat you are too old and I am young,For I am old enough to know betterAnd you are young enough not to care.
C’mon, let’s go join those tedious people.
Life goes on, sport.
Two days after his twelfth birthday, a fortnight before his father was jailed for debt, Charles Dickens was sent to work in a blacking factory. There, in a rat-infested room by the docks, he sat for t...
Numbed by disappointment and betrayal, like a child who had been awakened suddenly from a summer dream about christmas morning.
How could I possibly NOT be disappointed by what I would find? Nothing had ever met my expectation, since nothing could compete with my doctoring imagination, my pathetic compulsion to make the world...
Nobody's happy. What's happy? Happiness is over when the lights come on
We’re gonna be fifty-year-old libertines in a world full of twenty-year-old Calvinists.
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