It's a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares any more; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn me….

There's never been anything funny about a woman dying for love..

He took each fact as it came and let it slip painlessly into the back of his mind, thinking, Okay, okay, I'll think about that one later; and that on….

She just happened to feel like it. Wasn’t that after all, the only reason there was? Had she ever had a less selfish, more complicated reason for doi….

Remember what Anatole France said about the dog masturbating on your leg--'Sure, it's honest, but who needs it?.