Nobody listens any more.
I can't talk to the walls because they're yelling at me.
I can't talk to my wife; she listens to the walls.

I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new.
What is broken is broken--and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.

Before, they had laughed at me, despising me for my ignorance and dullness; now, they hated me for my knowledge and understanding.

The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.

I feel sick. Not like for a doctor, but inside my chest it feels empty, like getting punched and a heartburn at the same time.

There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.

Do you know that books smell like nutmeg or some spice from a foreign land? I loved to smell them when I was a boy.

Before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself.