Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of Dead
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As I extract myself from my own body, it falls off me like old clothes. Underneath them I’m finer, soft, almost transparent. I have a body like a Jellyfish, white, milky, phosphorescent.
This fantasy is the only thing capable of bringing me relief. Oh yes, then I am free.
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Good News’s black Cats.
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It’s better to be ill in a quiet way, then at least we know what we’re going to die of.
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No, no, people in our country don't have the ability to club together to form a community, not even under the banner of the penny bun. This is a land of neurotic egotists, each of whom, as soon as he finds himself among others, starts to instruct, criticize, offend, and show off his undoubted superiority.
I think in the Czech Republic it's totally different. The people there are capable of discussing things calmly and nobody quarrels with anyone else. Even if they wanted to, they couldn't, because their language isn't suited to quarreling.
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I wondered whether the stars can see us. And if they can, what might they think of us? Do they really know our future? Do they feel sorry for us? For being stuck in the present time, with no chance to move? But it also crossed my mind that in spite of all, in spite of our fragility and ignorance, we have an incredible advantage over the stars—it is for us that time works, giving us a major opportunity to transform the suffering, aching world into a happy and peaceful one. It's the stars that are imprisoned in their own power, and they cannot really help us. They merely design the nets, and on cosmic looms they weave the warp thread that we must complete with our own weft.
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Everyone knows the profit to be reaped from the useful, but nobody knows the benefit to be gained from the useless.
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For if evil created the world, then good must destroy it.
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And then it occurred to me that in a way, Big Foot’s death might be a good thing. It had freed him from the mess that was his life. And it had freed the other living creatures from him. Oh yes, suddenly I realized what a good thing death can be, how just and fair, like a disinfectant or a vacuum cleaner. 
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