“The forecast was cloudy with extended periods of consciousness, followed by a stitch in my side and a sense of impending doom swelling to a symphony of demolition”
“Impending doom, it was a familiar sweater, we all wore it and as scratchy as it felt against our skin, we kept it on.”
“There is no vacuum in the human heart. Certain demolitions take place, and it is well that they do, but on condition that they are followed by reconstructions.”
“I stitched an itch to my side. As far as surgeries go, I’m just barely scratching the surface.”
“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
“I must go home periodically to renew my sense of horror.”