If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.

I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love.

and love was lightning and remembrance

The years have gone by quickly. Death sits in the seat next to me. We make a lovely couple.

great writers are indecent people they live unfairly saving the best part for paper. good human beings save the world so that bastards like me can keep creating art, become immortal. if you read this after I am dead it means I made it.

I feel strangely normal.

the history of melancholia includes all of us.