Jake went in, aware that he had, for the first time in three weeks, opened a door without hoping madly to find another world on the other side. A bell jingled overhead. The mild, spicy smell of old books hit him, and the smell was somehow like coming home.

The woman had looked into the abyss and then walked out across it.

We fool ourselves so much we could do it for a living.

Rationalism is the idea that we can ever understand anything about the state of being. It's a deathtrip. It always has been. . . . And if rationalism is a deathtrip, then irrationalism might very well be a lifetrip . . . at least until it proves otherwise.

Sometimes the embers are better than the campfire.

He sat upon his throne, which is made of skulls.

If a fear cannot be articulated, it can't be conquered.