sarcasm and jokes were often the bottle in which clinical depressives sent out their most plangent screams for someone to care and help them.

Truly decent, innocent people can be taxing to be around.

I know I never work in whatever gets called an office, e.g., a school office I use only for meeting students and storing books I know I'm not going to read anytime soon.

There is no hatred in my love for you. Only a sadness I feel all the more strongly for my inability to explain or describe it.

That what appears to be egoism so often isn't.

....there is an ending [to Infinite Jest] as far as I'm concerned. Certain kind of parallel lines are supposed to start converging in such a way that an "end" can be projected by the reader somewhere beyond the right frame. If no such convergence or projection occured to you, then the book's failed for you.

I think TV promulgates the idea that good art is just art which makes people like and depend on the vehicle that brings them the art.