your letters got sadder. your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. it didn't help. you said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over the river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you.

Why did I come here? I thought. Why is it always only a matter of choosing between something bad and something worse?

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

We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus!

‎"she’ mad but she’ magic. there’ no lie in her fire.

a good book can make an almost impossible existence, liveable ( from 'the luck of the word' )

Sometimes I get too exhausted to even feel bad