I write only because There is a voice within me That will not be still

God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.

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.

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.

I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off.

When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn't want it, you cannot take it back. It's gone forever.