And now -- now it only remains for me to light a cigarette and go home. Dear God, only now am I remembering that people die. Does that include me? Don't forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.

But don't forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.

And I want to be held down. I don't know what to do with the horrifying freedom that can destroy me.

Love is so much more deadly than I had thought, love is so much inherent as the very lack, and we are guaranteed by a need to be renewed continuously. Love is now, is forever. There is just the blow of grace - call it passion.

In the world there exists no aesthetic plane, not even the aesthetic plane of goodness.

It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am made of.

No it is not easy to write. It is as hard as breaking rocks. Sparks and splinters fly like shattered steel.