I love the people,' I said. 'I have room in me for love, and for ever so many little lives.
Go out and do something. It isnโt your room thatโs a prison, itโs yourself.
And I, love, am a pathological liar.
I wondered what I thought I was burying.
All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.
Everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.