I Need You, The Reader, To Imagine

Sleep Is The Most Moronic Fraternity In The World, With The Heaviest Dues And The Crudest Rituals. It Is A Mental Torture I Find Debasing... I Simply Cannot Get Used To The Nightly Betrayal Of Reason, Humanity, Genius.

Art At Its Greatest Is Fantastically Deceitful And Complex.

The Tiny Madman In His Padded Cell.

Readers Are Not Sheep, And Not Every Pen Tempts Them.

I Think It Is All A Matter Of Love: The More You Love A Memory, The Stronger And Stranger It Is.