When one of my Japanese teacups is broken, I imagine that the real cause was not the careless hand of a maid but the anxieties of the figures inhabiting the curves of that porcelain. Their grim decision to commit suicide doesn't shock me: they used the maid as one of us might use a gun.

FIRST WATCHER Why do people die? SECOND WATCHER Perhaps because they don't dream enough.

These pages are not my confession; they’re my definition. And I feel, as I begin to write it, that I can write it with some semblance of truth.

Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.

In order to understand, I destroyed myself.

Every gesture is a revolutionary act.

pg 9, "The consciousness of life's unconsciousness is the oldest tax levied on the intelligence.