I see what he's after. He is a collector. He thinks all he has to do is give me an apple, and then he can collect me.
I planned my death carefully, unlike my life, which meandered along from one thing to another, despite my feeble attempts to control it.
I leafed through all the men I had known to see whether or not I hated them. But then I realized it wasn't the men I hated, it was the Americans, the human beings, men and women both. They'd had their...
I have failed once again to fulfill the expectations of others, which have become my own.
I don't want to see it. I don't want to look at something that determines me so completely.
I didn't know I was about to be left with her idea of me; with her idea of my goodness pinned onto me like a badge and no chance to throw it back at her (as would have been the normal course of affair...
I can’t think of myself, my body, sometimes, without seeing the skeleton: how I must appear to an electron. A cradle of life, made of bones; and within, hazards, warped proteins, bad crystals jagged a...
I can tell you're admiring my febrility. I know it's appealing, I practice at it; every woman loves an invalid. But be careful. You might do something destructive: hunger is more basic than love. Flor...
I am not my childhood,' Snowman says out loud.
Homelessness is a nationality now.
He's lost something, some illusion I used to think was necessary to him. He's come to realize he too is human. Or is this a performance, for my benefit, to show me he's up-to-date? Maybe men shouldn't...
Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love.
God is a cluster of neurons.
CELLNow look objectively. You have toadmit the cancer cell is beautiful.If it were a flower, you'd say, with its mauve centre and pink petalsof if a cover for a pulpy thirtiessci-fi magazine. as an al...
But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
But maybe boredom is erotic, when women do it, for men.
But how can you have a sense of wonder if you’re prepared for everything?
But Jimmy, you should know. All sex is real.
Being here with him is safety; it's a cave, where we huddle together while the storm goes on outside. This is a delusion, of course. This room is one of the most dangerous places I could be.
I stand in the dark, start to unbutton. Then I hear something inside my body. I've broken, something has cracked, that must be it. Noise is coming up, coming out, of the broken place, in my face. With...