I Hated The Words. Each

I Don’t Know Where The Universe Came From Or What Happens To Creatures When They Die. I Don’t Know If The Whole Thing’s An Unravelling Accident Or An Inscrutable Design. I Don’t Know How One Should Live—but I Know That One Should Live, If One Can Possibly Bear It.

Grace Only Exists To Be Fallen From.

This Is Love: You Stop Bothering About The Universal, The General, Get Sucked Instead Into The Local And Particular: When Will I See Her Again? What Shall We Do Today? Do You Like These Shoes? Theory And Reflection Are Delicate Old Uncles Bustled Out Of The Way By The Boisterous Nephews Action And Desire. Themes Evaporate, Only Plot Remains.

We’re The Worst Thing Because For Us The Worst Thing Is The Best Thing. And It’s Only The Best Thing For Us If It’s The Worst Thing For Someone Else.

Your Ideal Possession Candidate's A Thirteen-year-old Recently Orphaned Schizophrenic Girl Three Days Away From Her Period On Her Way To See The Shrink With Whom She's Romantically Besotted.