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When I saw the thread title, I immediately thought of Thomas De Quincey's autobiography Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (1821).
It reads much like Nabokov's Lolita in terms of the challenge of whether you should trust the narrator.
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Knowing that death is certain and that the time of death is uncertain, what's the most important thing?
—Bhikkhuni Pema Chödrön
Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
—From "Burnt Norton," Four Quartets (1936), T. S. Eliot
Last edited by Baraka_Guru; 06-19-2010 at 05:51 PM..
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