“When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.”

“...Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.”

“I thought as much. Miss Murray, though I am a beast, do not think that I am stupid. I know that I am hideous and hateful. I am not loved, nor ever hope to be. Nor am I fool enough to think that what I feel for you is love.But in this world, alone, I do not hate you. And alone in this world, you do not hate me.”

“I go through a loop in which I notice all the ways I am...self-centered and careerist and not true to standards and values that transcend my own petty interests...but then I countenance the fact here at least here I am worrying about it; so then I feel better about myself...but this soon becomes a vehicle for feeling superior to imagined Others...I think I'm very honest and candid, but I'm also proud of how honest and candid I am--so where does that put me.”

“But as I spoke to him, all I could feel was love. That was ridiculous. And I am deeply, deeply suspicious of it.”

“I believe in intuitions and inspirations...I sometimes FEEL that I am right. I do not KNOW that I am.”