Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things. – Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal
To love someone is to isolate him from the world, wipe out every trace of him, dispossess him of his shadow, drag him into a murderous future. It is to circle around the other like a dead star and absorb him into a black light. – Jean Baudrillard