A Moment Passed, Perhaps Half A Second

He Has Found Himself More And More Reliant On Her At Exactly The Point That She Has Become Less Available To Him.

I Think Reality Is Over-rated

From An Evolutionary Point Of View, Most Emotions - Fear, Desire, Anger - Serve Some Practical Purpose, But Nostalgia Is A Useless, Futile Thing Because It Is A Longing For Something That Is Permanently Lost . . . .

The True Writer, The Born Writer, Will Scribble Words On Scraps Of Litter, The Back Of A Bus Tickets, On The Wall Of A Cell.

We're Not Ourselves, Are We? I'm Certainly Not Myself, Not Anymore. And You're Not Either. You Don't Seem Yourself. Not As I Remember You.