Alcohol Doesn't Console, It Doesn't Fill Up

I Am Dead. I Have No Desire For You. My Body No Longer Wants The One Who Doesn’t Love.

Finding Yourself In A Hole, At The Bottom Of A Hole, In Almost Total Solitude, And Discovering That Only Writing Can Save You. To Be Without The Slightest Subject For A Book, The Slightest Idea For A Book, Is To Find Yourself, Once Again, Before A Book. A Vast Emptiness. A Possible Book. Before Nothing. Before Something Like Living, Naked Writing, Like Something Terrible, Terrible To Overcome.

In Heterosexual Love There's No Solution. Man And Woman Are Irreconcilable, And It's The Doomed Attempt To Do The Impossible, Repeated In Each New Affair, That Lends Heterosexual Love Its Grandeur.

It Was The Men I Deceived The Most That I Loved The Most.

It’s Not That You Have To Achieve Anything, It’s That You Have To Get Away From Where You Are.