don't you see that you are god itself?

he and his eleven legions were overwhelmed, and the parthians, hearing of crassus' motive, laughed as they poured molten gold into the dead general's mouth, saying: 'thou hast thirsted for gold, therefore drink gold.'

through horrid pain, nausea too began to plague her. horror after horror, all of it impossible to bear, and one thought worse than all others weighed on her mind like an anchor. one truth that seemed ready to almost kill her: 'i am still here.'

a god isn't a being of power and whim; a god is a saviour and protector, and that's why we call one's favour grace, and a blessing.

if you try to save someone you can't save, you'll both end up sinking.

father's dead, so nobody hits me anymore. mother's dead too, so she doesn't cry.

the fire i would set to the world would not bring ruin but cosmic transfiguration.

does their kindness feel like fingers wrapping around your neck, like blood spilling onto stone, like a knife twisting hilt-deep in your chest where it has laid over the years?

to live in solitude means to relinquish all expectations about life. the only surprise in solitude is death.

sanity is a valuable possession; i hoard it in the way people once hoarded money. i save it, so i will have enough, when the time comes.

i know that i am liked by other people, but i seem to be deficient in the faculty to love others.

i don't know what day it is. it hurts to even just get through the day.

how long will it be until the future which was lost can be seen again?

look forward. chew up and swallow your past, then make sure emptiness and bitterness are not the only flavours you know.

the man i once was, what happened to him? the man i once was, did he ever exist?

these shoulders, your spine…your stomach and side, your fingertips…this hair of yours, oh…don't you tremble, now. i am only looking.

farewell...since i will never see you again, it feels as though my chest is being hollowed out.

wouldn't it be better if i buried my tears in the sand on a seashore in utter solitude? but i never cried, because my tears have always turned into thoughts. and my thoughts are as bitter as tears.

the truly awful thing in madness is that we sense a total and irrevocable loss of life while we are still living. i continue to eat and drink, but i have lost whatever consciousness i bring to my biological functions. it is only an approximate death.

i will gouge my eyes out, and give them to you.