I am sane. Sanity is a valuable possession; I hoard it the way people once hoarded money. I save it, so I will have enough, when the time comes.
I am a blank, here, between parentheses. Between other people.
I admired her lack of compunction, the courage of her bad manners, the energy of simple rage. Throwing a bag of spaghetti had a simplicity to it, a recklessness, a careless grandeur. It got things ove...
Human society, they claimed, was a sort of monster, its main by-products being corpses and rubble.
Human society, they claimed, was a sort of monster, its main by-products being corpses and rubble. It never learned, it made the same cretinous mistakes over and over, trading short-term gain for long...
Human beings- I've observed- are hot-wired for score keeping, and since they like to win, they're always going one better than the other fellow.
How much longer can I be so fucking cute?
How easy it is, treachery. You just slide into it.
Hope throws a smokescreen. Smoke gets in your eyes and so no one is prepared for it, but suddenly it;s there, like an out-of-control bonfire - like murder, only multiplied. It's in full spate.
Here and there are worms, evidence of the fertility of the soil, caught by the sun, half dead; flexible and pink, like lips.
Her glass wings are gone.
Her face might be kindly if she would smile. But the frown isn't personal: it's the red dress she disapproves of, and what it stands for. She thinks I may be catching, like a disease or any form of ba...
Heaven, for the Presbyterians, must resemble a banking establishment, with each soul tagged and docketed, and placed in the appropriate pigeonhole.
He'd wanted us to be more like boys, and now we were. You don't teach boys to be charming. It makes people think they are devious.
He throws out radiance, it must be reflected sun. Why isn't everyone staring?
He needed to exist only in the present, without guilt, without expectation.
He got his driver's license, he got his high school diploma, he got his university degree. He got a worried little furrow between his eyes. He did what he thought was expected of him, and brought the...
He doesn’t say what he thinks of my paintings, but I know anyway. He thinks they are irrelevant. In his mind, what I paint is lumped in with the women who paint flowers. Lumped is the word. The presen...
He compiled lists of old words too – words of a precision and suggestiveness that no longer had a meaningful application in today’s world, or toady’s world, as Jimmy sometimes deliberately misspelled...
Genius is an infinite capacity for causing pain.