I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?

I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.

The constant struggle in mature life, I think, is to accept the necessity of tragedy and conflict, and not to try to escape to some falsely simple solution which does not include these more somber complexities.

That is salvation. To give of love inside. To keep love of life, no matter what, and give to others. Generously.

Sometimes I feel like I'm not solid. I'm hollow. There's nothing behind my eyes. I'm a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.