See The Moon? It Hates

He Is Mad About Being Small When You Were Big, But No, That's Not It, He Is Mad About Being Helpless When You Were Powerful, But No, Not That Either, He Is Mad About Being Contingent When You Were Necessary, Not Quite It... He Is Insane Because When He Loved You, You Didn't Notice.

--why Are We Fighting Them? --they're Mad. We're Sane. --how Do We Know? --that We're Sane? --yes. --am I Sane? --to All Appearances. --and You, Do You Consider Yourself Sane? --i Do. --well, There You Have It. --but Don't They Also Consider Themselves Sane? --i Think They Know. Deep Down. That They're Not Sane. --how Must That Make Them Feel? --terrible, I Should Think. They Must Fight Ever More Fiercely, In Order To Deny What They Know To Be True. That They Are Not Sane.

The Aim Of Literature ... Is The Creation Of A Strange Object Covered With Fur Which Breaks Your Heart.

There Was No Particular Point At Which I Stopped Being Promising.

Is Death That Which Gives Meaning To Life? And I Said, No, Life Is That Which Gives Meaning To Life.