Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.

Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.

I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have.

Everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.

I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks.

O love, how did you get here?

Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.