“I was wandering around as usual, in my unpleasantly populated sub-conscious...”

“To be alone was something unpleasant. But I was at the same time conscious of a slight insanity in my mood, and seemed to foresee my recovery.”

“I couldn't begin to tell you what terrible trigger for such insanity lies deep in my sub-conscious. Though no doubt some would say that, indeed, it may be some demon of conscience. A deeply buried guilt for some unforgivable depravity. Then again, perhaps not.”

“So I just live with my insomnia. I do crossword puzzles, or wander out to the music room and fool around on the piano, or read. Those late hours when the world is completely still, when the only sound is the rustle of the air in the vents and the wind visiting the trees outside, when the darkness is tucked tight around the house and you feel as life itself the movements of your own consciousness-these are wonderful hours to read. There is no interruption.”

“Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.”

“I've heard people talk about the circle of life. What comes around goes around and other such contiguous descriptions. But I think life is a seesaw, the kind that used to populate every children's playground. Seesaws rarely balance. They're usually in motion, either flinging you up or dropping you down. They can be fun or they can be terrifying - a lot of it depends on the other person.”