I Remember Every Single Spot Of Light

I Can't Read Or Sleep. Without Hope Or Youth Or Money I Sit Constantly Wishing I Were Dead.

One Illusion Is As Good As Another.

She Quietly Expected Great Things To Happen To Her, And No Doubt That’s One Of The Reasons Why They Did.

I Suppose All We Can Really Share With People Is A Taste For The Same Kinds Of Weather.

Nobody Has Ever Been Able To Experience What They Have Thoroughly Understood - Or Understand What They Have Experienced Until They Have Achieved A Detachment That Renders Them Incapable Of Repeating The Experience.