He knew about being alone. The weather was always cold there.

I like to think Im a pretty good-natured guy and pretty civil and probably not ever truly guilty in any serious way of any legal infractions.

at least i'm talkng to myself. instead of giving myself the cold shoulder

Sorrow has a name, and its name is loneliness. Sorrow has a shape, and its shape is absence. Sorrow is a sickness like any other.

There may be no city in the clouds, but dreaming of it can enliven the spirit.

It's the work that's important, not the individual who does it.

The world rarely shrieks its meaning at you. It whispers, in private languages and obscure modalities, in arcane and quixotic imagery, through symbol systems in which every element has multiple meanings determined by juxtaposition.