That's how it is with books, isn't it: They're not in a hurry. They'll wait for you till you're ready. People empty me. I have to go away to refill.

I would certainly end up forever crying the blues into a coffee cup in a park for old men playing chess or silly games of some sort.

Don’t do it. Don’t love me.

When Ginsburg is at the top of his game you might as well put down your toys and listen.

the writing of some men is like a vast bridge that carries you over the many things that claw and tear. The Wine of Forever

I never understood society. i undersand that it works somehow and that it functions as a reality and that its realities are necessary to keep us from worse realities. but all i sense are that are plenty of police and jails and judges and laws and that what is meant to protect me is breaking me down.

she is no longer the beautiful woman she was. she sends photos of herself sitting upon a rock by the ocean alone and damned. I could have had her once. I wonder if she thinks I could have saved her?