Striving toward a goal puts a more pleasing construction on our advance toward death.

In the theater of confusion, knowing the location of the exits is what counts.

If you do not throw in a few promises of better things to come, gloomy one, I am going to take you back to the library.

Pornography supplies the only really safe sex.

Boast quietly, with decorum.

In the labyrinth of a difficult text, we find unmarked forks in the path, detours, blind alleys, loops that deliver us back to our point of entry, and finally the monster who whispers an unintelligible truth in our ears.

All the powers of imagination combine in hypochondria.