Memory's so treacherous. One moment you're lost in a carnival of delights with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing neon on puberty, all that sentimental candyfloss. The next, it leads you somewhere you don't want to go.. Somewhere dark and cold, filled with the damp ambiguous shapes of things you'd hoped were forgotten.

Does the human heart know chasms so abysmal?

Janey accuses me of chasing jailbait. She bursts into angry tears, asking if it's because she's getting older. It's true. She's aging more noticeably every day — while I am standing still. I prefer the stillness here. I am tired of Earth. These people. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.

You see, there's the way things seemed and then there's the way things were and one is so often the total reverse of the other.

To some degree Satanism is purely a kind of disease of Christianity. You've got to really be Christian to believe in Satan.

Authority, when first detecting chaos at its heels, will entertain the vilest schemes to save its orderly facade.

Rather than being able to have a healthy relationship with our own sexual imagination, we're driven into some dark corners by shame and embarrassment and guilt, and those dark corners breed all sorts of monsters.