Worship your body, beauty, and sexual allure and you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you.

Not having a passport makes me very blasé about what appears in foreign periodicals since I know I'll never see it.

This appetite to choose death by pleasure if it is available to choose - this appetite of your people unable to choose appetites, this is the death.

Am I a good person? Deep down, do I even really want to be a good person, or do I only want to seem like a good person so that people (including myself) will approve of me? Is there a difference? How do I ever actually know whether I'm bullshitting myself, morally speaking?

The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.

How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.

There's good self-consciousness, and then there's toxic, paralyzing, raped-by-psychic-Bedouins self-consciousness.