You are locked into your suffering and your pleasures are the seal.
And what can I tell you, my brother, my killer, what can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you, I’m glad you stood in my way.
I smile when I’m angry, I cheat and I lie. I do what I have to do to get by. But I know what is wrong and I know what is right, and I’d die for the truth in my secret life .
I couldn’t feel so I learned to touch.
The duty of lovers is to tarnish the Golden Rule.
I guess you go for nothing, if you really want to go that far.
This mental space is occupied and everything is mine.
It is painful to recall a past intensity, to estimate your distance from the Belsen heap, to make your peace with numbers. Just to get up each morning is to make a kind of peace.
I don’t know which side is anybody on any more. I don’t really care. There is a moment when we have to transcend the side we’re on and understand that we are creatures of a higher order.
Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
You’ve got a deadline. Well, I do, too: death.
I swear by this song and by all that I have done wrong, I will make it all up to thee.
I bargain now. I offer buttons for his love.
She was made of flesh and eyelashes.
I’m afraid to live any place but in expectation. I’m no life-risk.
Well, I’ve been waiting, I was sure we’d meet between the trains we’re waiting for I think it’s time to board another Please understand, I never had a secret chart to get me to the heart of this or any other matter.
I’m not a very nostalgic person. I don’t really look at the past and summon up regrets, or self-congratulations, it just is not a mechanism that operates very strongly in me. So I neither have regrets nor occasions for self-congratulations.
I’ve forgotten most of what I’ve read and, frankly, it never seemed very important to me or to the world.
Ah, grief makes us precise!
He knew that hair couldn’t feel; he kissed her hair.