Old age: I fall asleep during the funerals of my friends.

Rescue someone unwilling to look after himself, and he will cling to you like a dangerous illness.

Under attack, sentiments harden into dogma.

Now defined as art, the totem has lost cult, taboo, and custom.

If I had found the words I was looking for, I would not have read so much.

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

Thank God for the passing of the discomforts and vile cuisine of the age of chivalry!