I Want To Make My Own Discoveries…….penetrate

My Diary Seems To Keep Me Whole.

You Live Like This, Sheltered, In A Delicate World, And You Believe You Are Living.

When I Am Most Deeply Rooted, I Feel The Wildest Desire To Uproot Myself.

Solitude May Rust Your Words.

We Are Like Sculptors, Constantly Carving Out Of Others The Image We Long For, Need, Love Or Desire, Often Against Reality, Against Their Benefit, And Always, In The End, A Disappointment, Because It Does Not Fit Them.