It is possible to be truly mad and to still exist upon scraps of life.
that your power of command with simple language was one of the magnificent things of our century. (from the poem: result)
I can't blame her. but wonder why she's here with me? where are the other guys? how can you be lucky? having someone the others have abandoned?
You don't go on "probably" when love and guns are in hand.
I have gotten so used to melancholia that I greet it like an old friend.
If you can't write the next line, well, you're dead. The past doesn't matter.