Thus We Live, Forever Taking Leave.

No One Can Advise And Help You, No One. There Is Only One Way: Go Within.

If, When You Wake Up In The Morning, You Can Think Of Nothing But Writing . . . Then You Are A Writer.

What Do The Contours Of Your Body Mean, Laid Out Like The Lines On A Hand, So That I No Longer See Them Except As Fate?

We Are Not Permitted To Linger, Even With What Is Most Intimate.

Shattered People Are Best Represented By Bits And Pieces.