Art seduces, but does not exploit.

Forget what hurt you but never forget what it thaught you.

The narcissist enjoys being looked at and not looking back.

Victorian sorrow: the stars are winking in the sky, but not for us.

The ninety percent of human experience that does not fit into established narrative patterns falls into oblivion.

Posterity--the forlorn child of nineteenth century optimism--grows ever harder to conceive.

My parents wanted me to solace them for sorrows they denied having had.