Mother! Oh, God, Mother! Blood! Blood!
It’s the hardest thing of all, to let go of someone you love.
If you love someone, you don’t do that to them, even if you hate them. You understand, I don’t hate her. I hate what she’s become. I hate the illness.[about going away]
I think one of us has a problem. And I’m tired of the assumption being that it’s me.
I like women. Maybe from spending so many years close to my mother.
A son is a poor substitute for a lover.
A hobby’s supposed to pass the time, not fill it.
