I am not what you see and hear.

That no single$$$ individual moment is in and of itself unendurable.

The interesting thing is why we're so desperate for this anesthetic against loneliness.

Good fictions job is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

There's good self-consciousness$$$ and then there's toxic$$$ paralyzing$$$ raped-by-psychic-Bedouins self-consciousness.

Tea to the English is really a picnic indoors.

Too much respect for people who are not respectful to you is a sure sign of insecurity.

People do not wish to appear foolish; to avoid the appearance of foolishness$$$ they are willing to remain actually fools.

Helped are those who are content to be themselves; they will never lack mystery in their lives and the joys of self-discovery will be constant.

I ain't got no spare<br>I ain't got no jack<br>I don't give a shit<br>I'm not going back.