I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.

She spoke of evenings in the country making popcorn on the porch. Once this would have gladdened my heart but because her heart was not glad when she said it I knew there was nothing in it but the idea of what one should do.

At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.

The dream is already ended and we're already awake in the golden eternity.

My whole wretched life swam before my weary eyes, and I realized no matter what you do it's bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad.

Things are so hard to figure out when you live from day to day in this feverish and silly world.

stick at it like a benni addict