“Below us somewhere in the gelatinous phantasmagoria of churning blue, the whales wouldn't be much aware of the storm.”
“Fiction wouldn't be much fun without its fair share of scoundrels, and they have to live somewhere.”
“A squalid phantasmagoria of breath”
“She felt so much aware of her own beauty it seemed inconceivable that everybody else wouldn't notice the difference too.”
“You can’t believe how bleeding scary the sea is! There’s, like, whales and storms and shit! They don’t bloody tell you that!”
“We are primarily the products of thinking that happens below the level of awareness.”