Green leaves on a dead tree is our epitaph-green leaves, dear reader, on a dead tree.

Life is a maze in which we take the wrong turning before we have learned to walk.

The one way to get thin is to re-establish a purpose in life.

There is no suicide for which all society is not responsible.

When I write after dark the shades of evening scatter their purple through my prose.

There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another.

While thoughts exist, words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living.