What release to write so that one forgets oneself, forgets one's companion, forgets where one is or what one is going to do next to be drenched in sleep or in the sea. Pencils and pads and curling blue sheets alive with letters heap up on the desk.

Beauty cannot disguise nor music melt A pain undiagnosable but felt.

I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.

Good communication is just as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after.

The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere. That is why so much of social life is exhausting; one is wearing a mask. I have shed my mask.

For it is only framed in space that beauty blooms.

It's funny how you can be mad at someone one moment and want to hug them the next.