My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery - always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for?
Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.
The future is dark, which is the best thing the future can be, I think.
I think writing, my writing, is a species of mediumship. I become the person.
Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.
Nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates happiness from melancholy.