You can be so much in a room that the world outside turns to water. You've got the heater blowing out burnt air, but you still don't get warm. Your ankles are singed, but your head's in a bucket of ice. Time drips like a stalactite. The water for the coffee boils away in a tree of steam.

[B]ut he had lived in a world in which, as he said, no one who loved ideas need hunger mentally.

People shopping for a messiah want quality. Nobody is going to follow a loser.

Why don't you want to be Jewish anymore?" "I'm tired of the guilt. That enormous nagging historical guilt." "What guilt?" "The guilt of being innocent victims.

Written By Don DeLillo

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