The terrible thing about pain is that it doesn’t matter, it still hurts. It hurts like hell.

Life is too short to argue about time.

These days I can’t tell what I really feel.

The heat comes off the music.

Time feels as if it is on the other side of me now, way over, out across the sea, like another country. I don’t live inside it any more and it doesn’t rule me.

The beautiful have so much easier a time of it than the ugly, don’t you think? They get smiled at the whole time. Strangers offer them things. People notice the beautiful; the beautiful are constantly acknowledged.

Loss isn’t an absence after all. It is a presence.

When it rains like that, dark in the afternoon, you feel like you’ve been taken into the past.

I think I’ll get a nut roast. Maybe a nut roast is too lesbian?

I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. Nor did I feel ambitious any more. It all seemed stupid wanting to be better than the others in the same ring, shallow, pointless.