Someone who is perennially surprised that depravity exists, who continues to feel disillusioned (even incredulous) when confronted with evidence of what humans are capable of inflicting in the way of gruesome, hands-on cruelties upon other humans, has not reached moral or psychological adulthood.

Gide and I have attained such perfect intellectual communion that I experience the appropriate labor pains for every thought he gives birth to!

The possession of a camera can inspire something akin to lust. And like all credible forms of lust, it cannot be satisfied.

Self-respect. It would make me lovable. And it's the secret to good sex.

I feel inauthentic at a party. ... Going to a party is a 'low' activity - the authentic self is compromised, fragmented - one plays 'roles.' One isn't fully present, beyond role-playing. One doesn't (can't) tell the full truth, which means one is lying, even if one doesn't literally tell lies.

My skull is crammed with quotations.

Societies need to have one illness which becomes identified with evil, and attaches blame to its victims.