It's their skins I'm peeling," she said. "The skins of the insipid scribblers, which I graft to the page, creating monsters of meaninglessness.
I felt beautiful but also interrupted. I wasn't used to being so complicated.
Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.
One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright.
My hatred gives me strength.
There is no God, there is only what you want.