“I will no longer wound myself with the thoughts and questions that have surrounded me like thorns: that is a penance You do not ask of me.”

“I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.”

“Why don't I kill myself? If I knew exactly what keeps me from doing so, I should have no more questions to ask myself since I should have answered them all.”

“Do you always ask me the same questions you ask him?"

"It depends on whether or not I get an answer.”

“I believe that I've been asked all possible questions. I, myself, if I were a journalist, would not know what to ask me.”

““What do I ‘feel’?” he sneered… Did you actually ask me what I ‘feel’? I ‘feel’ I’m surrounded by morons!””

“If you ask me to play myself, I will not know what to do. I do not know who or what I am.”

“Then he asks if he can kiss me. It is a question I don’t usually like. Just do it, I always think.”

“Therefore it seems to me that I am no longer of this world, since I can no longer do the work of the world like the others; indeed, every action of others that I see disturbs me, for I do not work as they do, nor as I myself used to do. I feel myself altogether estranged from earthly affairs, and from my own most of all”

“I remember the time an older man asked me when I was young, "Do you know what you are doing now?" I thought it was some kind of trick question.
Tell me," I said.
You are building your memories," he replied, "so make them good ones.”