Odd that the brain could function on its own, without acquainting him with its purposes, its reasons. But the brain was an organ, like the spleen, heart, kidneys. And they went about their private activities. So why not the brain?

The will to believe chases out the rational mind, whenever and wherever the two come into conflict.

He started keeping a journal - had been, in fact, secretly doing so for some time: the furtive act of a deranged person.

My major preoccupation is the question, 'What is reality?'

What is possible and what is not possible is not objectively known but is, rather, a subjective belief on the part of the author and of the reader.

Everything in life is just for a while.

Maybe I'll go where I can see stars, he said to himself as the car gained velocity and altitude; it headed away from San Francisco, toward the uninhabited desolation to the north. To the place where no living thing would go. Not unless it felt that the end had come.