"I was struck by the distance between me and those street freaks; to them, I was just another fat cat, hanging off a balcony over the strip" ("Mescalito," pg. 18.)

"[W]e live in a jungle of pending disasters, walking constantly across a minefield...will my plane crash tomorrow? What if I miss it? Will the next one crash? Will my house burn down?" ("Mescalito," pg. 22.)

"[T]he pill has taken hold for real. The metal on the typewriter has turned from dull green to a sort of high-gloss blue, the keys sparkle, glitter with highlights...I sort of levitated in the chair, hovering in front of the typewriter, not sitting" ("Mescalito," pg. 25.)

"Any slippage now could be a landslide, losing the grip, falling or flipping around, Christ, can't blow my nose, can't find it but I can see it and my hand too, but they can't get together...