It's true though: time moves in its own special way in the middle of the night, the bartender says, loudly striking a book match and lighting a cigarette. You can't fight it.
If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.
My point is: in this whole wide world the only person you can depend on is you.
Don't tell me anymore. You should have your dream, as the old woman told you to. I understand how you feel, but if you put those feelings into words they will turn into lies. (from Thailand)
If I'm going to merely ramble, maybe I should just snuggle under the warm covers, think of Miu, and play with myself.
Letters are just pieces of paper, I said. Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish.
I write weird stories. I don't know why I like weirdness so much. Myself, I'm a very realistic person. I don't trust anything New Age -- or reincarnation, dreams, Tarot, horoscopes. I don't trust anyt...
People want to be bowled over by something special. Nine times out of ten you might strike out, but that tenth time, that peak experience, is what people want. That's what can move the world. That's a...
To what extent facts we recognize as such really are as they seem, and to what extent these are facts merely because we label them as such, is an impossible distinction to draw. Therefore, in order to...
suffering is a misunderstood pain
Your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks. All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by that rush of water. And still...
According to Aristophanes in Plato's The Banquet, in the ancient world of legend there were three types of people.In ancient times people weren't simply male or female, but one of three types : male/m...
It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a .
Let your body work until it is spent, but keep your mind for yourself.
Time really is one big continuous cloth, no? We habitually cut out pieces of time to fit us, so we tend to fool ourselves into thinking that time is our size, but it really goes on and on.
I've been clinging to this world like a discarded shell of an insect stuck to a branch, about to be blown off forever by a gust of wind.
Artists are those who can evade the verbose.
I wasn't particularly afraid of death itself. As Shakespeare said, die this year and you don't have to die the next.
If you can't understand it without an explanation, you can't understand it with an explanation.
I do feel that I’ve managed to make something I could maybe call my world…over time…little by little. And when I’m inside it, to some extent, I feel kind of relieved. But the very fact I felt I had to...
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