The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left.

‎"she’ mad but she’ magic. there’ no lie in her fire.

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

When I was young I was depressed all the time. But suicide no longer seemed a possibility in my life. At my age there was very little left to kill. It was good to be old, no matter what they said. It was reasonable that a man had to be at least 50 years old before he could write with anything like clarity.

The trouble with a mask is it never changes

a good book can make an almost impossible existence, liveable ( from 'the luck of the word' )

whiskey makes the heart beat faster but it sure doesn't help the mind and isn't it funny how you can ache just from the deadly drone of existence?