I Need To Tell A Story. It's

Conceit Is A Privilege Of The Ignorant; The Wise Man Is Humble Because He Knows How Little He Knows.

We Are Too Connected. There's Noise In Our Heads All The Time.

I Try Desperately To Conquer The Transitory Nature Of My Existence, To Trap Moments Before They Evenesce, To Untangle The Confusion Of My Past. Every Instant Disappears In A Breath And Immediately Becomes The Past; Reality Is Ephemeral And Changing, Pure Longing.

A Man Does What He Can; A Woman Does What A Man Cannot.

Fiction Happens In The Belly, It Doesn't Happen In The Brain.