I knew I was strong, and maybe like they said, "crazy." But I had this feeling inside of me that something real was there.

It’s not so much that nothing means anything but more that it keeps meaning nothing. there’s no release, just gurus and self- appointed gods and hucksters. the more people say, the less there is to say. even the best books are dry sawdust.

In the morning it was morning and I was still alive.

No matter how little a man has he will find that he will always settle for less.

the history of melancholia includes all of us.

you've got to burn straight up and down and then maybe sidewise for a while and have your guts scrambled by a bully and the demonic ladies, you've got to run along the edge of madness teetering, you've got to starve like a winter alleycat, you've go to live with the imbecility of at least a dozen cities, then maybe maybe maybe you might know where you are for a tiny blinking moment.

Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are.