There will come a time when it isn't 'They're spying on me through my phone' anymore. Eventually, it will be 'My phone is spying on me'.

It is amazing that when someone else spouts the nonsense you yourself believe you can readily perceive it as nonsense

He sat watching the people go by, wondering how a thing of this sort could have come about, I must have let myself get mixed up in something horrible, he thought ... Probably she's the one who did it; I have no control of myself or anything that's happened. So now I'm waking up. I'm awake, he thought ... I've been destroyed and now that I'm awake all I can do is realize it ... The shock of getting up there and telling that account made me see. Mixture of lies and bits of truth. Woven together. Unable to see where each starts.

I'd like to see you move up to the goat class, where I think you belong.

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

It really seems to me that in the midst of great tragedy, there is always the horrible possibility that something terribly funny will happen.

Madness has its own dynamism. It just goes on.