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.

I'm a strange person. Sometimes I hardly know what I'm going to do or say next. Sometimes I seem a stranger to myself. Sometimes what I do surprises me and I can't understand why I do it.

Writing is a lonely way of life. You shut yourself up in your study and work and work.

Either I've invented a whole new logic or, ahem, I'm not playing with a full deck.

There exists, for everyone, a sentence - a series of words - that has the power to destroy you. Another sentence exists, another series of words, that could heal you. If you're lucky you will get the second, but you can be certain of getting the first.

Those who refused to respond to the new stimulus would perish. Adapt or perish.

Are we to assist it in gaining power in order to save our lives? Is that the paradox of our earthly situation?