the history of melancholia includes all of us.

As a recluse I couldn't bear traffic. It had nothing to do with jealousy, I simply disliked people, crowds, anywhere, except at my readings. People diminished me, they sucked me dry.

Long ago, among other lies they were taught that silence was bravery.

Human relationships are strange. I mean, you are with one person a while, eating and sleeping and living with them, loving them, talking to them, going places together, and then it stops.

I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love, and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of me.

Alcohol is probably one of the greatest things to arrive upon the earth - alongside of me.

It's just that the grape has me down.