I am incapable of conceiving infinity, and yet I do not accept finity. I want this adventure that is the context of my life to go on without end.

I scream for everything that has gone wrong. I scream for everything broken in our lives.

I write to find out what I'm talking about.

Regardless of my age, such a trivial thing isn’t important, it was upon that decision which my life hung.

My feeling, based on my own experience, is that aiming for grandiosity is the fastest route to failure.

My mother was an authority on pig sties. This is the worst looking pigsty I have ever seen in my life, and I want it cleaned up right now.

Kindness is the color in the cathedral window which woven into beautiful characters shuts out the hideous sights of a world which is all too practical.

I realised it was only me who was stopping myself from living my life.

My heart knows me better than I know myself, so I'm gonna let it do all the talking.

One of the main effects of war, after all, is that people are discouraged from being characters.

And so it happens oft in many instances; more good is done without our knowledge than by us intended. [Lat., Itidemque ut saepe jam in multis locis, Plus insciens quis fecit quam prodens boni.]