Quotes from Janice Galloway

You would think there's a natural limit to tears: only so much the body can give at one sitting before it runs dry.

No matter how often I think I can't stand it anymore, I always do. There is no alternative. I don't fall, I don't foam at the mouth, faint, collapse or die. It's the same for all of us. You can't get out of the inside of your own head. Something keeps you going. Something always does.

Needing people yet being afraid of them is wearing me out.

No matter how dark the room gets I can always see. It looks emptier when I put the lights on so I don't do it if I can help it. Brightness disagrees with me: it hurts my eyes, wastes electricity and encourages moths, all sorts of things. I sit in the dark for a number of reasons.

The phone is an instrument of intrusion into order. It is a threat to control. Just when you think you are alone and safe, the call could come that changes your life. Or someone else's. It makes the same flat, mechanical noise for everyone and gives no clues what's waiting there on the other end of the line. You can never be too careful.

It's asking for trouble to listen to music alone.

I already read everything. I read poems and plays and novels and newspapers and comic books and magazines. I read tins in supermarkets and leaflets that come through the door, unsolicited mail. None of it lasts long and it doesn't give me answers. Reading too fast is not soothing.

The whole point is that time passes. That things fade. He is already hard to remember. Look, I used to cry because I thought I'd forget. Then I knew that was ridiculous and cried because I remembered. But the truth is that one is the same as the other. Remembering and forgetting are the same bloody thing. He is not alive any more. That's all there is to know. There is no purpose to any of it. The point is there is no point.

God isn't fooled by mercenary goodness I told myself and went back to manic smiling.

Do what you want with life, you don't get another one. Never apologize, never explain. Stay light, stay free. Jealousy kills; it kills whatever it touches.

There are split seconds in the morning between waking and sleep when you know nothing. Not just things missing like where or who you are, but nothing. The fact of being alive has no substance. No awareness of skin and bone, the trap inside the skull. For these split seconds you hover in the sky like Icarus. Then you remember

That was probably how religion worked. The triumph of loneliness over intelligence. And why not? Why shouldn't religion be exactly the same as everything else? Faith, hope and charity: as relevant as serving suggestions.

The difference is minding. I mind the resultant moral dilemma of having no answers. I never forget the fucking questions. They're always there, accusing me of having no answers yet. If there are no answers there is no point: a terror of absurdity. Logic will force me to do things where desire hasn't a chance.

Friedrich desiderò ardentemente Clara, a prescindere dal suo sesso. Prima ancora di sapere cos'era, chi era, sapeva quello che sarebbe stata: la più grande pianista che lui potesse plasmare