Old lovers go the way of old photographs, bleaching out gradually as in a slow bath of acid: first the moles and pimples, then the shadings. Then the faces themselves, until nothing remains but the general outlines.
Our biggest moral debt is to the environment. Take-take-take, nothing given back.
Madness is only an amplification of what you already are.
We slept in what had once been the gymnasium.
Time rises and rises, and when it reaches the level of your eyes you drown.
If the national mental illness of the United States is megalomania, that of Canada is paranoid schizophrenia.