I take much pleasure in being alone but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.

It began as a mistake.

My dear, Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover. ~ Falsely yours

Trouble and pain were what kept a man alive. Or trying to avoid trouble and pain. It was a full time job.

the masses are everywhere they know how to do things: they have sane and deadly angers for sane and deadly things.

Well, we lost it, and that’s all there is to that.

A yet women -good women- frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep. Basically I craved prostitutes, base women, because they were deadly and hard and made no personal demands. Nothing was lost when they left. Yet at the same time I yearned for a gentle, good woman, despite the overwhelming price.