Wind blew through the canes of bamboo growing at the rim of the play area. Manny listened to the wind, cocking his head and frowning. Elias patted him on the shoulder and wondered what the wind was telling the boy. Does it say who you are? He wondered. Does it tell you your name?

- The Divine Invasion, by Philip K. Dick

You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book (Lady Chatterley, for instance), or you take a trip, or you talk with Richard, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death.

- Anaïs Nin

These days, she clung to each last shred of beauty. People thought beauty was bullshit, just a Band-Aid slapped over the abyss, but they couldn't be more wrong. It was like Lola Lola had said, beauty mattered, it was the only thing that fed you when everything else turned to shit.

- Janet Fitch, from Paint It Black.