Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.

He felt more crypts cracking open inside of him; the stench he smelled was not decayed bodies but decayed memories, and that was somehow worse.

His was a great sin who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours.

There's no consciousness without senses and memories.

If we could only learn to look on evil as evil, whether it's clothed in filth or monotony or magnificence.

Without memories,there can be no good or evil. It will exist only indifference!