words.amniisia.com

I felt giddy with importance that my words'd captured the attention of this exotic woman. Fear, too. If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin and say, 'When you're ready.'

'Your "sort of" is annoying. A yes, or a no, or a qualification, please. "Sort of" is an idle loubard, an ignorant vandale. "Sort of" says, "I am ashamed by clarity and precision."

Photos're better than nothing, but things're better than photos 'cause the things themselves were part of what was there.

A city is a sea that you lose things in. You only find things that other people have lost.

Folks with most to complain about seldom complain most.

Lunatics are writers whose works write them ... The human world is made of stories, not people. The people the stories use to tell themselves are not to be blamed.

These are days when computers humanize and humans computerize.

... my brother-in-law says the world needs less communication, not more.

A book you read is not the same book it was before you read it. Maybe a girl you sleep with is not the same girl you went to bed with.

If only, Shiroyama dreams, human beings were not masks behind masks behind masks. If only this world was a clean board of lines and intersections. If only time was a sequence of considered moves and not a chaos of slippages and blunders.

'My uncle would quote Luther: "Whilst friends show us what we can do, it is our enemies who show us what we must."'

This world, he thinks, contains just one masterpiece, and this is itself.