I didn’t know till then the stars, in flakesof snow come down to fuck the earth, the lake.

She wondered if she had grown obsessed with sex. She admitted to thinking about it almost all the time. … “And if I’m not thinking about sex, I’m thinking about death,” she added bitterly. “Sometimes...

The reception of the semen is the height of ecstasy. I want it always, constantly.” Isn’t that extraordinary?