You, who can't do anything, think you can bring off something like that? How can you even dare to think about it? If you were capable of it, you certainly wouldn't be in need of it.

I, however, cannot force myself to use "meat drugs" to cheat on my loneliness.

Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.

All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.

You see, I have only such a fugitive awareness of things around me that I always feel they were once real and are now fleeting away.

There are questions we could not get past if we were not set free from them by our very nature.

Every dog has like me the impulse to question, and I have like every dog the impulse not to answer.