I Am Free And That Is Why

I Miss You Deeply, Unfathomably, Senselessly, Terribly.

All I Am Is Literature, And I Am Not Able Or Willing To Be Anything Else.

And So Gentlemen, I Learned. Oh, If You Have To Learn, You Learn; If You’re Desperate For A Way Out, You Learn; You Learn Pitilessly. You Stand Over Yourself With A Whip In Your Hand; If There’s The Least Resistance, You Lash Yourself.

Life Is Merely Terrible; I Feel It As Few Others Do. Often — And In My Inmost Self Perhaps All The Time — I Doubt Whether I Am A Human Being.

Even The Merest Gesture Is Holy If It Is Filled With Faith.