Depression On My Left, Loneliness On My

We All Want Things To Stay The Same. Settle For Living In Misery Because We Are Afraid Of Change, Of Things Crumbling To Ruins. Ruin Is A Gift. Ruin Is The Road To Transformation.

I Am A Better Person When I Have Less On My Plate.

But Is It Such A Bad Thing To Live Like This For Just A Little While? Just For A Few Months Of One's Life, Is It So Awful To Travel Through Time With No Greater Ambition Than To Find The Next Lovely Meal? Or To Learn How To Speak A Language For No Higher Purpose Than That It Pleases Your Ear To Hear It? Or To Nap In A Garden, In A Patch Of Sunlight, In The Middle Of The Day, Right Next To Your Favourite Fountain? And Then To Do It Again The Next Day?

If You're Alive, You're A Creative Person.

I Think The Thing That I Lost In Myself When I Stopped Writing Fiction And The Thing That I Rediscovered And Started Mining Again Is, For Lack Of A Better Word, Magic. It's The Way You Can Brush Up Against The Inexplicable And The Mystical.