If I'd known it was harmless, I'd have killed it myself!

No matter how long a log stays in the water, it doesn't become a crocodile.

How much of what we call 'reality' is actually out there or rather within our own head?

Strange how paranoia can link up with reality now and then.

But an artist, he realized. Or rather so-called artist. Bohemian. That's closer to it. The artistic life without the talent.

The Empire is the institution, the codification, of derangement; it is insane and imposes its insanity on us by violence, since its nature is a violent one.

The hell with the newspapers. Nobody reads the letters to the editor column except the nuts. It's enough to get you down.