The cat jumps up on the bed and tries to get onto my head. It's his way of telling whether or not i'm dead. If i'm not, he wants to be scratched; if i am - he'll think of something

He doesn't know which is worse, a past he can't regain or a present that will destroy him if he looks at it too clearly. Then there's the future. Sheer vertigo.

Powerlessness and silence go together.

You refuse to own yourself, you permit others to do it for you

Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been.

Her glass wings are gone.

God is not the voice in the whirlwind, God is the whirlwind.