The Startling Reality Of Things Is My

The Gods Sell When They Give. Glory Is Paid For With Disgrace. Poor Are The Happy, For They Are Just What Passes.

I Don't Know What I Feel Or What I Want To Feel. I Don't Know What To Think Or What I Am.

I'm Astounded Whenever I Finish Something. Astounded And Distressed. My Perfectionist Instinct Should Inhibit Me From Finishing; It Should Inhibit Me From Even Beginning. But I Get Distracted And Start Doing Something. What I Achieve Is Not The Product Of An Act Of My Will But Of My Will's Surrender. I Begin Because I Don't Have The Strength To Think; I Finish Because I Don't Have The Courage To Quit. This Book Is My Cowardice.

My Past Is Everything I Failed To Be.

I Want To Be A Work Of Art, At Least In My Soul, Since I Can’t Be One In My Body.