Every Hundred Feet The World Changes

Being Alone Makes Us Stronger. That’s The Honest Truth. But It’s Cold Comfort, Since Even If I Wanted Company No One Will Come Near Me Anymore.

Poetry Is The One Thing That Isn't Contaminated, The One Thing That Isn't Part Of The Game.

The Pain, Or The Memory Of Pain, That Here Was Literally Sucked Away By Something Nameless Until Only A Void Was Left. The Knowledge That This Question Was Possible: Pain That Turns Finally Into Emptiness. The Knowledge That The Same Equation Applied To Everything, More Or Less.

No One Pays Attention To These Killings, But The Secret Of The World Is Hidden In Them.

Of All The Islands He'd Visited, Two Stood Out. The Island Of The Past, He Said, Where The Only Time Was Past Time And The Inhabitants Were Bored And More Or Less Happy, But Where The Weight Of Illusion Was So Great That The Island Sank A Little Deeper Into The River Every Day. And The Island Of The Future, Where The Only Time Was The Future, And The Inhabitants Were Planners And Strivers, Such Strivers, Said Ulises, That They Were Likely To End Up Devouring One Another.