I know it must look odd, given that I didn't even know Emma. But it seems to me that almost no one really knew her. Everyone I speak to has a different version of what she was like.

Life is simply too short to live it less perfectly than it could be lived.

But I know he loves me. I know he needs our games, that they answer some deep-seated hunger in him.

Sometimes it's as if I can shrink away to nothing. Sometimes I feel as pure and perfect as a ghost. The hunger, the headaches, the dizziness—these are the only things that are real.

We're all connected now, I think as I send it off into cyberspace. Everyone and everything.

I feel a thrill of excitement at this first tiny glimpse of self-revelation, of intimacy.

All these men who loved Emma, I think. For all her problems, men were fixated on her. Will anyone ever feel like that about me?

Every new friend, in your life is 1% success.

The will of man is his happiness.

Obscenity, which is ever blasphemy against the divine beauty in life, is a monster for which the corruption of society forever brings forth new food, which it devours in secret.

I don't try to describe the future. I try to prevent it.

I like to play a wide range of characters. The more they're unlike me, the better I like it.

They say you waste time asleep, but I'm just trying to dream.

The Jews run all the banks. Well, we do. The Jews run the media. Well, we do. You know, I mean they're right about all that stuff.

Why was I born, if just to live in misery

If the father is not straight naider will be the son.

Into the field of Yellow flowers The red setting sun!