Полная иллюминация

Иногда я чувствую себя угодившим в ловушку, как если бы независимо от того, что я делаю, исход был бы уже предрешен.

There has yet to be a human to survive a span of history without at least one end of the world.

"You are very funny, Jonathan."

"No. That's the last thing I want to be."

"Why? To be funny is a great thing."

"No it's not."

"Why is this?"

"I used to think that humor was the only way to appreciate how wonderful and terrible the world is, to celebrate how big life is. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, of course."

"But now I think it's the opposite. Humor is a way of shrinking from that wonderful and terrible world."

..."Deep down, the young are lonelier than the old." I read that in a book somewhere and it's stuck in my head. Maybe it's true. Maybe it's not true. More likely, the young and old are lonely in different ways, in their own ways...

It's true, I am afraid of dying. I am afraid of the world moving forward without me, of my absence going unnoticed, or worse, being some natural force propelling life on. Is it selfish? Am I such a bad person for dreaming of a world that ends when I do?

He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else.

The what is not so important, but that we should remember. It is the act of remembering, the process of remembrance, the recognition of our past ... Memories are small prayers to God, if we believed in that sort of thing ... [...] Memory. Memory and reproduction. And dreams, of course. What is being awake if not interpreting our dreams, or dreaming if not interpreting our wake? Circle of circles!

Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.

... [им] вновь овладевало желание не быть здесь, не быть самим собой, быть не здесь и не самим собой.

...все - от рождения до этого момента - сложилось в его жизни не так, но не с точностью до наоборот, а хуже: почти как надо.

Что мы вообще знаем?
Почти ничего.

И он был моим лучшим другом.
И я убил его.

Вкусное было яблочко, Адам? И половинка червя, которую ты обнаружил в кисло-сладкой мякоти: была это голова или хвост?

Разве я материал для брата моего?
Конечно, Каин. Конечно.

Выпил восемь чашек кофе. Думал, разорвет. Не разорвало.

Очень хорошо. Ну и что, по-твоему, с тобой случилось?
У меня пила в голове застряла.
Очень хорошо.