O starry night, This is how I want to die
... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.
Depression is boring, I think and I would do better to make some soup and light up the cave.
I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.
I wonder if the artist ever lives his life--he is so busy recreating it.
Let there be a heaven so that man may outlive his grasses.