Why did I come here? I thought. Why is it always only a matter of choosing between something bad and something worse?
the masses are everywhere they know how to do things: they have sane and deadly angers for sane and deadly things.
Love is a form of prejudice. I have too many other prejudices.
If I have any advice to anybody it's this: take up watercolor painting.
This incompleteness is all we have.
People empty me. I have to get away to refill.