I can't read or sleep. Without hope or youth or money I sit constantly wishing I were dead.

A vacuum can only exist, I imagine, by the things which enclose it.

Looking for love is like asking for a new point of departure ... another chance in life.

isn't it funny how danger makes people passionate?

I can't read or sleep. Without hope or youth or money I sit constantly wishing I were dead.

Most people hew the battlements of life from compromise, erecting their impregnable keeps from judicious submissions, fabricating their philosophical drawbridges from emotional retractions and scalding marauders in the boiling oil of sour grapes.

A southern moon is a sodden moon, and sultry. When it swamps the fields and the rustling sandy roads and the sticky honeysuckle hedges in its sweet stagnation, your fight to hold on to reality is like a protestation against a first waft of ether.