What Else Is There To Do In

You Really Write The Books You Want To Write. You Can't Take Into Consideration Anything That Anybody Has Said About You In The Past, Or What They'll Say About You In The Future.

I Kept Staring Into The Blackness Of The Woods, Drawn Into The Darkness As I Always Had Been. I Suddenly Realized How Alone I Was. (but This Is How You Travel, The Wind Whispered Back, This Is How You've Always Lived.)

History Is Sinking And Only A Very Few Seem Dimly Aware That Things Are Getting Bad.

Our Lives Are Not All Interconnected. That Theory Is A Crock. Some People Truly Do Not Need To Be Here.

I Think Basically Most Men Are Misogynistic.