Skepticism Is The Elegance Of Anxiety.

Melancholy: An Appetite No Misery Satisfies.

If I Were To Be Totally Sincere, I Would Say That I Do Not Know Why I Live And Why I Do Not Stop Living. The Answer Probably Lies In The Irrational Character Of Life Which Maintains Itself Without Reason.

Tears Do Not Burn Except In Solitude.

To Live Signifies To Believe And Hope - To Lie And To Lie To Oneself.

I Have Always Struggled, With The Sole Intention Of Ceasing To Struggle. Result: Zero.