I may be indigent in name, position, and in appearance, but in my own mind I am an unrivaled goddess -

As always, I am saved by the inability of living creatures to believe anything that might cause the walls of their little mental assumptions to crumble.

Beautiful things should belong to beautiful souls.

Maybe that's what being alive is about: so we can track down those movments that are dying.

We musn't forget old people with their rotten bodies, old people who are so close to death, something that young people don't want to think about. We musn't forget that our bodies decline, friends die, everyone forgets about us, and the end is solitude. Nor must we forget that these old people were young once, that a lifespan is pathetically short, that one day you're twenty and the next day you're eighty.

I find this a fascinating phenomenon: the ability we have to manipulate ourselves so that the foundation of our beliefs is never shaken.

Because beauty consists of its own passing, just as we reach for it. It's the ephemeral configuration of things in the moment, when you can see both their beauty and their death.