The smell of meat and blood clouds up the condo until I don't notice it anymore. And later my macabre joy sours and I'm weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing "I just want to be loved," cursing the earth and everything I have been taught: principles, distinctions, choices, morals, compromises, knowledge, unity, prayer - all of it was wrong, without any final purpose. All it came down to was: die or adapt.
- Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho, Chapter " Tries to Cook and Eat Girl", p. 345.

Another morning.. let’s not give up

Maybe the target nowadays is not to discover what we are but to refuse what we are.

— Michel Foucault