I hear the mad song of a little bird and crush butterflies between my fingers.
Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion.
Do you ever suddenly find it strange to be yourself?
I write and that way rid myself of me and then at last I can rest.
The mystery of human destiny is that we are fated, but that we have the freedom to fulfill or not fulfill our fate: realization of our fated destiny depends on us. While inhuman beings like the cockroach realize the entire cycle without going astray because they make no choices.
I' is merely one of the world's instantaneous spasms.