Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.

Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.

I want to kill myself, to escape from responsiblity, to crawl abjectly back into the womb.

Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?

You ask me why I spend my life writing? Do I find entertainment? Is it worthwhile? Above all, does it pay? If not, then, is there a reason?... I write only because there is a voice within me. That will not be still.

Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person

No, I won't try to escape myself by losing myself in artificial chatter 'Did you have a nice vacation?' 'Oh, yes, and you?' I'll stay here and try to pin that loneliness down.