Murder offers the promise of vast relief. It is never unsexual. — Norman Mailer

The only true journey of knowledge is from the depth of one being to the heart of another.

Madness is locked beneath. It goes into tissues, is swallowed by the cells. The cells go mad. Cancer is their flag. Cancer is the growth of madness denied.

Love was love, one could find it with anyone, one could find it anywhere. It was just that you could never keep it. Not unless you were ready to die for it.