Talking About My Fears To Others Feeds

If Neurotic Is Wanting Two Mutually Exclusive Things At One And The Same Time, Then I'm Neurotic As Hell.

The Door Of The Novel, Like The Door Of The Poem, Also Shuts. But Not So Fast, Nor With Such Manic, Unanswerable Finality.

We Know A Thing By Its Opposite Corollary; Hot By Having Experienced Cold; Good By Having Decided What Is Bad; Love By Hate.

Every Day Is Precious And I Feel Infinitely Sad At This Time Melting Away From Me.

For The Few Little Successes I May Seem To Have, There Are Acres Of Misgivings And Self-doubt.