Paths are made by walking

April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone - never.

In theory there is a possibility of perfect happiness: To believe in the indestructible element within one, and not to strive towards it.

There sat I, a faded being, under faded leaves.

If something good has lost its way into you, it will make its escape overnight. I know you.

He is a free and secure citizen of the world because he is on a chain that is long enough to allow him access to all parts of the earth, and yet not so long that he could be swept over the edge of it.

Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.