... the first step of the terrible journey toward feeling somebody should act, that ends in utter confusion and hopelessness, east of the sun and west of the moon.

Just when I thought there wasn't room enough for another thought in my head, I had this great idea—

Until, accustomed to disappointments, you can let yourself rule and be ruled by these strings or emanations that connect everything together, you haven't fully exorcised the demon of doubt that sets you in motion like a rocking horse that cannot stop rocking.

In the increasingly convincing darkness The words become palpable, like a fruit That is too beautiful to eat.

If you need a certain vitality you can only supply it yourself, or there comes a point, anyway, when no one's actions but your own seem dramatically convincing and justifiable in the plot that the number of your days concocts.

I write with experiences in mind, but I don't write about them, I write out of them.

Expecting rain, the profile of a day Wears its soul like a hat.