It was only natural to want to destroy something you could never have.

My loneliness tasted like pennies.

her scruffy innoscense to impregnate with his dreams. reason was seductive, it gave the appearance of truth

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

What can I say about life? Do I praise it for letting you live, or damn it for allowing the rest?

Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.

A couple of times, I could have turned a trick. But I didn't want to start. I knew how it would play. When you started thinking it was easy, you were forgetting what it cost.