Confidence and superiority: It's the usual fundamentalist stuff: I've got the truth, and you haven't.

In this life you have to be your own hero. By that I mean you have to win whatever it is that matters to you by your own strength and in your own way. Like it or not, you are alone in a forest, just like all those fairy tales that begin with a hero who’s usually stupid but somehow brave, or who might be clever, but weak as a straw, and away he goes (don’t worry about the gender), cheered on by nobody, via the castles and the bears, and the old witch and the enchanted stream, and by and by (we hope) he’ll find the treasure.

We fear passion and laugh at too much love and those who love too much. And still we long to feel.

Memory loss is one way of coping with damage.

I would eat my way into perdition to taste you.

Nobody knows anything about Shakespeare the person. It's all legend, it is all rumor.

I know from my own experience that suicide is not what it seems. Too easy to try to piece together the fragmented life. The spirit torn in bits so that the body follows.