You are a ghost, Andi," she says. "Almost gone." I look at her. I want to say something but I can't get the words out. She squeezes my hands. "Come back to us," she says. And she's gone.

The more obscure our tastes, the greater the proof of our genius.

The world goes on, stupid and brutal, but I do not. Can't you see? I do not.

Yeah. Sure. My brother's dead. My mother's insame. Hey, let's have a crepe.

Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.

Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.

I will go out again this very night with my rockets and fuses. I will blow them straight out of their comfortable beds. Blow the rooftops off their houses. Blow the black, wretched night to bits. I will not stop. For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.