I stand on the corner, pretending I am a tree.

But remember that forgiveness too is a power. To beg for it is a power, and to withhold or bestow it is a power, perhaps the greatest. Maybe none of this is about control. Maybe it isn't really about who can own whom, who can do what to whom and get away with it, even as far as death. Maybe it isn't about who can sit and who has to kneel or stand or lie down, legs spread open. Maybe it's about who can do what to whom and be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing.

These things sneak up on him for no reason, these flashes of irrational happiness. It's probably a vitamin deficiency.

Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.

Every budding dictatorship begins by muzzling the artists, because they're a mouthy lot and they don't line up and salute very easily.

Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love.

What a lost person needs is a map of the territory, with his own position marked on it so he can see where he is in relation to everything else.