God, Why Didn't You Make Us All

My Body Is No Schoolboy.

You Never Know The Palette Of The One You Kill Until The Mind Disgorges Its Finest Colours.

To Write Something, You Have To Risk Making A Fool Of Yourself.

I Never Lie," I Said Offhand. "at Least Not To Those I Don't Love.

In The Spring Of 1988, I Returned To New Orleans, And As Soon As I Smelled The Air, I Knew I Was Home. It Was Rich, Almost Sweet, Like The Scent Of Jasmine And Roses Around Our Old Courtyard. I Walked The Streets, Savoring That Long Lost Perfume.