“Bad things open your eyes to the good things you weren’t paying attention to before.”
“You can never replace someone you love like that. Eventually the memories won’t be so hard on you. With time, the memories will make you smile and you will be grateful for having them.”
“A man is a penis-wrinkle when calling him a dickhead would be a compliment.”
“Whip ‘em out boys. We’ll measure them right here and now.”
“The bad things in life open your eyes to the good things you weren’t paying attention to before.”
“This isn’t over, Sylvia. I’ll leave you now, but I’m watching. I will not let that bastard hurt you.” I said this just as I reached the door. As she shut the door I heard a strangled whisper, “No, you’re perfectly capable of doing that on your own.”
“I love you. I never stopped loving you. These past years have been empty without you. The weekend you spent with me made me realize just how much you mean to me.”
“You left me over college tuition? Seriously? You left me broken and crying over money?”
“Age is a terrible thief. Just when you're getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back. It makes you ache and muddies your head and silently spreads cancer throughout your spouse.”
“He died violent and young and desperate, just like we all knew he'd die someday.”
“[I]t is the wine that leads me on,
the wild wine
that sets the wisest man to sing
at the top of his lungs,
laugh like a fool – it drives the
man to dancing... it even
tempts him to blurt out stories
better never told.”
“Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
[never tickle a sleeping dragon]”
“I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her –after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred–I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever–for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)–and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again–and 'oh, no,' Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure–all would be shattered.”
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