We Interpret Life At Moments

Nothing Good Ever Comes Of Love. What Comes Of Love Is Always Something Better

Literature Is A Vast Forest And The Masterpieces Are The Lakes, The Towering Trees Or Strange Trees, The Lovely, Eloquent Flowers, The Hidden Caves, But A Forest Is Also Made Up Of Ordinary Trees, Patches Of Grass, Puddles, Clinging Vines, Mushrooms, And Little Wildflowers.

Literature + Illness = Illness

Nothing Happened Today. And If Anything Did, I’d Rather Not Talk About It, Because I Didn’t Understand It.

Dreams Fade With Morning Light, Never A Morn For Thee, Dreamer Of Dreams, Goodnight.