Literature Is Capable Of Being A Subject

This Great Blue World Of Ours Is But A House Of Leaves, Moments Before The Wind.

So Often I Wonder Whether It Is My Right To Capitalize, As I Feel, So Often, On The Grief Of Others. But Then I Justify, In My Own Particular Thoughts, By Feeling That I Can Contribute A Little To The Understanding Of What Others Are Going Through; Then There Is Reason For Doing It.

The Finest Act Of Seeing Is Necessarily Always The Act Of Not Seeing Something Else.

Little Solace Comes To Those Who Grieve When Thoughts Keep Drifting As Walls Keep Shifting And This Great Blue World Of Ours Seems A House Of Leaves Moments Before The Wind.

Beautiful Women Are Always Drawn To Men They Think Will Keep Them Beautiful.