What can I expect from myself? My sensation in all their horrible acuity, and a profound awareness of feeling. A sharp mind that only destroys me, and an unusual capacity for dreaming to keep me entertained. A dead will and a reflection that cradles it, like a living child. From, The Book of Disquiet

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

Life is whatever we conceive it to be.

Life hurls us like a stone, and we sail through the air saying, "look at me move.

It's been a long time since I've been me.

Literature exists because the world isn't enough.

I take with me the conscience of defeat as a victory banner.