I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.

“You have a lot in common with the moon; its light & its beauty, & its distance from me.”

And that's the problem with words. People can't get to know the intensity of your emotions. People may resonate with your words but their reference for that resonance may be entirely different from yours and this is exactly where I see the problem with the written words.

The wounds we leave in people are sometimes too raw to risk falling back into them. I don't want to believe that we write each other off because we simply don't matter anymore. I know love isn't expendable. I wonder, and maybe hope, if we ever just force it to be out of necessity.

The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don’t know where that elsewhere is.

"I wish you a great big garden and blue skies."

"The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and love as only you can."