The problem in narcissism is not the high ideals and ambitions, it's the difficulty one encounters when trying to give them body.

This wretched brain gave way, and I became a wreck at random driven, without one glimpse of reason or heaven.

Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me; In exile thy bosom shall still be my home, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam.

Go where we may, rest where we will, Eternal London haunts us still.

A genuine odyssey is not about piling up experiences. It is a deeply felt, risky, unpredictable tour of the soul.

Fond memory brings the light of other days around me.

It may help us, in those times of trouble, to remember that love is not only about relationship, it is also an affair of the soul.