And, like the great damned souls, I shall always feel that thinking is worth more than living.

Look, there's no metaphysics on earth but chocolates.

Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.

It's been months since I last wrote. I've lived in a state of mental slumber, leading the life of someone else. I've felt, very often, a vicarious happiness. I haven't existed. I've been someone else. I've lived without thinking.

I'm something that I used to be. I'm never where I feel I am, and if I seek myself, I don't know who's seeking me. My boredom with everything has numbed me. I feel banished from my soul.

I carry my awareness of defeat like a banner of victory.

The chill of what I won't feel gnaws at my present heart.