If I must drool, I may as well drool on cashmere.

Does it take the harsh light of disaster to show a person’s true nature?

Once, I was a master at recycling leftovers. Now I cultivate the art of simmering memories.

Does the cosmos contain keys for opening my diving bell? A subway line with no terminus? A currency strong enough to buy my freedom back? We must keep looking.

We thread our way through a moving forest of ice-cream cones and crimson thighs.

Whereupon a strange euphoria came over me. Not only was I exiled, paralyzed, mute, half deaf, deprived of all pleasures, and reduced to the existence of a jellyfish, but I was also horrible to behold. There comes a time when the heaping up of calamities brings on uncontrollable nervous laughter - when, after a final blow from fate, we decide to treat it all as a joke.

I need to feel strongly, to love and admire, just as desperately as I need to breathe.