There were silences in my head. I could abandon myself completely to the pleasure of multiple relationships, to the beauty of the day, to the joys of the day. It was as if a cancer in me had ceased gnawing me. The cancer of introspection.
He was jealous of her future, and she of his past.
The secret of joy is the mastery of pain.
Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live.
Write. Write until it stops hurting.
I prefer empty cages, Sabina, until I find a unique bird I once saw in my dreams.