I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.
I won't give up the diary again. I must hold on here, it is the only place I can.
Love has as few problems as a motor car. The only problems are the driver, the passengers, and the road.
A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us.
You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.
Heaven is dumb, echoing only the dumb.