Two in distressmake sorrow less.

Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards.

Personally of course I regret everything. Not a word, not a deed, not a thought, not a need, not a grief, not a joy, not a girl, not a boy, not a doubt, not a trust, not a scorn, not a lust, not a hope, not a fear, not a smile, not a tear, not a name, not a face, no time, no place...that I do not regret, exceedingly. An ordure, from beginning to end.

My notes have a curious tendency, as I realize at last, to annihilate all they purport to record.

I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.

It's so nice to know where you're going, in the early stages. It almost rids you of the wish to go there.

We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.