We In Purgatory Sing Fondly Of Hell.

I'd Been Staying At The Holiday Inn With My Girlfriend, Honestly The Most Beautiful Woman I'd Ever Known, For Three Days Under A Phony Name, Shooting Heroin. We Made Love In The Bed, Ate Steaks At The Restaurant, Shot Up In The John, Puked, Cried, Accused One Another, Begged Of One Another, Forgave, Promised, And Carried One Another To Heaven.

With Each Step My Heart Broke For The Person I Would Never Find, The Person Who'd Love Me.

In My Writing, I Want To Be Laid Bare As A Human Being.

If You Write Fiction, You're By Yourself. There Are Certain Advantages To That In That You Don't Have To Explain Anything To Anybody. But When You Get In With Others Who Share The Loneliness Of The Whole Enterprise, You're Not Lonely Anymore.

This Life Is But The Childhood Of Our Immortality.