Personal lyricism is the outcry of prisoner to prisoner from the cell in solitary where each is confined for the duration of his life.

I'm tired and it's taking an increasing amount out of me, more than I have to give physically. And that's why I want to move to Sicily and buy that little farm and raise a flock of goats and geese. I find it peaceful ... and it would be a nice way to end life.

These are the intensities that one cannot live with, that he has to outgrow if he wants to survive. But who can help grieving for them? If the blood vessels could hold them, how much better to keep those early loves with us?

Once you fully apprehend the vacuity of a life without struggle, you are equipped with the basic means of salvation.

Deliberate cruelty is unforgivable. --Blanche Dubois

And funerals are pretty compared to deaths.

Show me a person who hasn´t known any sorrow and I´ll show you a superficial.