I'm Trying To Die Correctly,

I Had Become, With The Approach Of Night, Once More Aware Of Loneliness And Time - Those Two Companions Without Whom No Journey Can Yield Us Anything.

A Diary Is The Last Place To Go If You Wish To Seek The Truth About A Person. Nobody Dares To Make The Final Confession To Themselves On Paper: Or At Least, Not About Love.

It Is Not Peace We Seek But Meaning.

A Taste Older Than Meat, Older Than Wine. A Taste As Old As Cold Water.

No One Can Go On Being A Rebel Too Long Without Turning Into An Autocrat.