The Compensation For A Death Sentence Is

There He Stood, In The Camouflage Of Sun And Shade, Disfigured By Them And Masked By His Own Nakedness.

Happy Is The Novelist Who Manages To Preserve An Actual Love Letter That He Received When He Was Young Within A Work Of Fiction, Embedded In It Like A Clean Bullet In Flabby Flesh And Quite Secure There, Among Spurious Lives.

I Always Call Him Lewis Carroll Carroll, Because He Was The First Humbert Humbert.

Don't Touch Me; I'll Die If You Touch Me.

All Colors Made Me Happy: Even Gray. My Eyes Were Such That Literally They Took Photographs.