Love is another name for sex.
Empathy must be limited to herbivores or anyhow omnivores who could depart from a meat diet. Because, ultimately, the empathic gift blurred the boundaries between hunter and victim, between the successful and the defeated.
You know the truth, the brick-hard, irregular, slithery surface of truth.
My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.
It is the basic condition of life, to be required to violate your own identity.
Everything is true. Everything anybody has ever thought.