Don't attach yourself to anyone who shows you the least bit of attention because you're lonely. Lonliness is the human condition. No one is ever going to fill that space. The best thing you can do it know yourself... know what you want.

How easy I was. Like a limpet I attached myself to anything, anyone who showed me the least attention.

You were my home, Mother. I had no home but you

Oleander time, she said. Lovers who kill each other now will blame it on the wind.

Writing mirrors the interior self. You know, any book is like the perfect blueprint of the psyche of the author.

In a train...smash. In his arm her last...breath.' He had loved her. But he hated himself more. Such suffering, so much pain. And he thought it made him hateful. As if suffering was shameful, disgusting, as if pain were a crime. Who can judge another man's suffering?

The phoenix must burn to emerge.