My struggle to remain healthy is gradually killing me.
I do love the past but wouldnt want to live in it.
I'll burn myself, or I'll cut myself. For a burn or a cut might be shown, might be nursed, might scar or heal, would be a miserable kind of emblem; would anyway be there, on the surface of her body, rather than corroding it from within. Now the thought came to her again, that she might scar herself in some way. It came, like the solution to a problem: I won't be doing it like some hysterical girl. I won't be hoping she'll come catch me at it. It won't be like lying on the sitting-room floor. I'll be doing it for myself, as a secret.
She supposed that houses, after all - like the lives that were lived in them - were mostly made of space. It was the spaces, in fact, which counted, rather than the bricks.
I suppose I really seemed mad, then; but it was only through the awfulness of having said nothing but the truth, and being thought to be deluded.
We have a name for your disease. We call it a hyper-aesthetic one. You have been encouraged to over-indulge yourself in literature; and have inflamed your organs of fancy.
What does it say?" I said, when I had. She said, "It is filled with all the words for how I want you. . . Look.
When I was a little kid, I loved horror films. I always liked being scared.
Just because one pedophile is a football coach, please don't turn against all pedophiles.
I'm always fascinated by the way memory diffuses fact.
I think it's creepy if a guy says, I would never hit a girl. Cause that should go without saying. That's like if you ever heard a guy go, I would never crap in a hot tub.