Starbuck: I see the broken hymen of your mouth. I see the broken seal of your lips. Where does all this strange machinery come from, that continues to torment me and torment me with its cold indifferent eyes and hands? O I think I’ve gone insane, I think I’ve crossed into the seas of madness in a little boat and I have nothing to protect me from waves and sharks. All I can say to you is "Why? Why? Why?" Why did you take your fist and shove it through that window; why did you walk through that sliding glass door; why must you constantly shatter windows and mirrors, windows and mirrors? YOU CANNOT STAND SIGHT; YOU CANNOT STAND TO SEE. I cannot understand what you are saying, I cannot understand a word that comes from your mouth, you are made of meaningless sounds, you are made of nonsensical utterances. Every time you walk into the room I am overtaken by the confusion of dreams, living in a dream. I cannot understand you clearly: I see you obliquely as distorted and disjointed. Your body seems to be made of many strange colors and patterns—can’t you ever be clear?