Spontaneity is the mother of crudity.

Among men$$$ sex sometimes results in intimacy; among women$$$ intimacy sometimes results in sex.

We are men and our lot in life is to learn and to be hurled into inconceivable new worlds.

There are limits to the power of laughter and though I may hint at them from time to time$$$ I do not propose to step over them.

And it was sad music fit to make you cut your throat.

I've come to understand the best one can hope for as a human is to have a relationship with the space where God would be if God were available$$$ but God isn't.

And kneeling at the edge of the transparent sea I shall shape for myself a new heart from salt and mud.

Then the edge asserts itself. You are not a god. You are not that enlarged self. Indeed$$$ you are not even a whole self$$$ as you now see. Your new knowledge of possibilities is also a knowledge of what is lacking in the actual.

And the reason he cannot bear her dying is not the loss of her (which is the future) but that dying puts the two of them (now) into this nakedness together that is unforgivable.

I am talking about evil. It blooms. It eats. It grins.