He drowned his sorrows, though like other drowned things they had a habit of floating to the surface when least expected. - Margaret Atwood

Furthermore, I believe that in order to have civil and human rights for women there have to be civil and human rights, period …

He doesn't know which is worse, a past he can't regain or a present that will destroy him if he looks at it too clearly. Then there's the future. Sheer vertigo.

Even sex was no longer what it had once been, though he was still as addicted to it as ever. He felt jerked around by his own dick, as if the rest of him was merely an inconsequential knob that happened to be attached to one end of it. Maybe the thing would be happier if left to roam around on its own.