Sundays kill more people than bombs.
I have one problem, I don’t hate people. They disgust me and I want to get away from them. I do not have hatred. I have an escape mechanism.
the history of melancholia includes all of us.
Things will be far worse than they are now. And far better. I wait.
I’ve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time.
I guess for me Hemingway is a lot like it is for others: he goes down well when we are young.