Ever since I was small I loved feeling somebody comb my hair. It made me go all sleepy & peaceful.
All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.
I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.
Widow. The word consumes itself.
I am disabused of all faith, and see too clearly.
It's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.