I, A Late Riser, Fantasise About Getting

I Guess The Difference Between Gin And Me Is That When Gin Got Shut In The Barn She Thought Edmond Didn't Love Her Anymore But Because I Could Feel Edmond Out There Somewhere Always Loving Me I Didn't Have To Howl All Night.

It Was Not A Big Smile, Not Particularly Bold Or Polite Or Ironic Or Glib, Not Asking For Anything Or Offering Anything, Not Stringy Or Careless, Not, In Short, Like Any Smile I Had Ever Experienced Before. But Such A Smile! You Could Burn A Hole In The World With That Smile.

Perhaps The Way To Succeed Is To Think Of Life On Earth As A Colossal Joke, A Creation Of Such Immense Stupidity That The Only Way To Live Is To Laugh Until You Think Your Heart Will Break.

It's Not That He Lacked Poetry. But His Poetry Was Of The Body, Not The Mind. He Spoke It In The Way He Moved, The Way He Held A Hammer, Rowed A Boat, Built A Fire. I, On The Other Hand, Was Like A Brain In A Box, A Beating Heart In A Coal Scuttle.

It Might Go Down Better Than Appearing As A Giant Reptile Encased In A Ball Of Fire And Forcing Yourself On Her.' 'why Do You Always Have To Bring That Up?