I know I'm paranoid, but am I paranoid enough?

The truth is that the heroism of your childhood entertainments was not true valor. It was theatre. The grand gesture, the moment of choice, the mortal danger, the external foe, the climactic battle whose outcome resolves all--all designed to appear heroic, to excite and gratify and audience. Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reality--there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand?Here is the truth--actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.

Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence.

You are what you love. No? You are, completely and only, what you would die for without, as you say, the thinking twice.

There are very few innocent sentences in writing.

Everything takes time. Bees have to move very fast to stay still.

The parts of me that used to think I was different or smarter or whatever, almost made me die.