I guess that's the story of life: what you most fear never happens, but what you most yearn for never happens either. This is the difference between life and fiction. I suppose it's a good trade-off. But I'm not sure.

Insanity - to have to construct a picture of one's life, by making inquiries of others.

Certainly it constitutes bad news if the people who agree with you are buggier than batshit.

Whom the gods notice they destroy.

Guilt -- if there was any guilt -- spread out and diffused itself over everybody and everything. . . . Perhaps at some point in time, at some spot in the world, a moment of responsibility existed.

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

Once a guy stood all day shaking bugs from his hair.