Tremendous interest in the superficial is very characteristic of cultures in decline.

Cities at night, I feel, contain men who cry in their sleep and then say Nothing. It's nothing. Just sad dreams. Or something like that...Swing low in your weep ship, with your tear scans and sob probes, and you would mark them. Women--and they can be wives, lovers, gaunt muses, fat nurses, obsessions, devourers, exes, nemeses--will wake and turn to these men and ask, with female need-to-know, "What is it?" And the men will say, "Nothing. No it isn't anything really. Just sad dreams.

So I am lonely, but not alone, like everybody else.

It is straightforward — and never mind, for now, about plagues and famines: if God existed, and if he cared for humankind, he would never have given us religion.

You can kill time in a number of ways but it always depends on the kind of time you're fighting: some time is unkillable, immortal

It is terrible to see someone being beaten up by the English language.

We all have names we don't know about.