Humor (is) the process that allows one to brush reality aside when it gets too distressing.

Who am I? If this once I were to rely on a proverb, then perhaps everything would amount to knowing whom I 'haunt.'

Every time you date someone with an issue that you have to work to ignore, you're settling.

It is impossible for me to envisage a picture as being other than a window, and why my first concern is then to know what it looks out on.

Surrealism will usher you into death, which is a secret society. It will glove your hand, burying therein the profound M with which the word Memory begins. Do not forget to make proper arrangements for your last will and testament: speaking personally, I ask that I be taken to the cemetery in a moving van. May my friends destroy every last copy of the printing of the Speech concerning the Modicum of Reality.

The clouds were disappearing rapidly, leaving the stars to die. The night dried up.

Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.