To live in the moment is a frightful thing. In all the past I never lived in the moment. I was saving those moments for now.
The future is no better place. The future is coming with the sole purpose that I might regret it.
I once loved someone who said things like, “when we’re older and you write my biography…” What a presumptuous jerk. But more pathetic was how I adored him, and how he still crosses my mind every day, at least the person he was, not our failure.
Nothing nourishes suffering like nostalgia.
At dusk, while the stars sort out their sleep patterns,
I don’t pretend to know anything, including the French word for hell. I don’t even know if the English word for hell is quite correct.
After feasting, mint restores coherence.
Although anyone who looks can see it, and even explain it, the daytime moon always seems something secret and subversive.
It is good to put an hour aside for thinking. Slow down. Behold your horses.
Weltschmerz. I wash mine down with coffee.