The beloved's innocence brutalizes the lover. As the singing of a mad person behind you on the train enrages you, its beautiful animal-like teeth shining amid black planes of paint. As Helen enrages history. Senza uscita.

We participate in the creation of the world by decreating ourselves.

The self forms at the edge of desire, and a science of self arises in the effort to leave that self behind.

Consider incompleteness as a verb.

We are only midway through the central verse of our youth when we see ourselves begin to blacken. ... We had been seduced into thinking that we were immortal and suddenly the affair is over.

When I desire you a part of me is gone.

To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.