It's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.

A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.

Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.

The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.

I am not cruel, only truthful.

Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.

There is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get.