...maybe a damned good night's sleep will bring me back to a gentle sanity. But at the moment, I look about this room and, like myself, it's all in disarray: things fallen out of place, cluttered, jumbled, lost, knocked over and I can't put it straight, don't want to. Perhaps living through these petty days will get us ready for the dangerous ones.

Our disappointment sits between us.

It began as a mistake.

There would never be a way for me to live comfortably with people. Maybe I'd become a monk. I'd pretend to believe in God and live in a cubicle, play an organ and stay drunk on wine.

Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can't even cry.

I thought you were sane," I said, "but you're just as crazy as the rest of them.

hate contains truth. beauty is a facade.