I feel an indescribable ecstasy and delirium in melting, as it were, into the system of being, in identifying myself with the whole of nature.
Now I'd rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie.
I know that the whole point—the only point—is to find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.
There is in every madman a misunderstood genius whose idea, shining in his head, frightened people, and for whom delirium was the only solution to the strangulation that life had prepared for him.
Life creates itself in delirium and is undone in ennui.
Underneath all reason lies delirium and drift.
Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That's what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.
I know what the problem is, of course. The disorientation, the distraction, the difficulty focusing - all classic Phase One signs of deliria. But I don't care. If pneumonia felt this good I'd stand out in the snow in the winter with bare feet and no coat, or march into the hospital and kiss pneumonia patients
I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
I am a night painter, so when I come into the studio the next morning the delirium is over.
The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don’t.
I'd rather die on my own terms than live on theirs. I'd rather die loving Alex than live without him.
Slums may well be breeding grounds of crime, but middle class suburbs are incubators of apathy and delirium.
I'd rather die my way than live yours.
It will kill me, it will kill me, it will kill me. And I don't care.
If he were less well trained, and less careful, he would say hate. But he can’t say it; it is too close to passion, and passion is too close to love, and love is amor deliria nervosa, the deadliest of all deadly things: It is the reason for the games of pretend, for the secret selves, for the spasms in the throat.
People don't deserve the restraint we show by not going into delirium in front of them.
Not knowing everything is all that makes it OK, sometimes.
I said, I prefer the ocean when it's gray. Or not really gray. A pale, in-between color. It reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.
You can't be happy unless you're unhappy sometimes".
"Love is not altogether a Delirium," says he elsewhere; "yet has it many points in common therewith."
Have you ever spent days and days and days making up flavors of ice cream that no one's ever eaten before? Like chicken and telepone ice cream? Green mouse ice cream was the worst. I didn't like that at all.
This is what I want. This is the only thing I've ever wanted. Everything else—every single second of every single day that has come before this very moment, this kiss—has meant nothing.
Delirium: 'What's the name of the word for the precise moment when you realize that you've actually forgotten how it felt to make love to somebody you really liked a long time ago?' Dream: 'There isn't one.' Delirium: 'Oh. I thought maybe there was.'
He is my world and my world is him and without him there is no world.
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