The profoundest thoughts of the philosophers have something trickle about them. A lot disappears in order for something to suddenly appear in the palm of the hand.
As if one could know the good a person is capable of, when one doesn't know the bad he might do.
Explain nothing. Put it there. Say it. Leave.
I want to keep smashing myself until I am whole.
A head full of stars, just not in constellation yet.
It is always the enemy who started it, even if he was not the first to speak out, he was certainly planning it; and if he was not actually planning it, he was thinking of it; and, if he was not thinking of it, he would have thought of it.