I, the dreamer clinging yet to the dream as the patient clings to the last thin unbearable ecstatic instant of agony in order to sharpen the savor of the pain's surcease, waking into the reality, the more than reality, not to the unchanged and unaltered old time but into a time altered to fit the dream which, conjunctive with the dreamer, becomes immolated and apotheosized

It's terrible to be young. It's terrible. Terrible

Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.

The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself

And sure enough, even waiting will end...if you can just wait long enough.

I'm bad and I'm going to hell, and I don't care. I'd rather be in hell than anywhere where you are.

...the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead a long time.