When I First Met Him, He Did

You Can Either Give Negativity Power Over Your Life Or You Can Choose Happiness Instead.

I Only Regret That Everybody Wants To Deprive Me Of The Journal, Which Is The Only Steadfast Friend I Have, The Only One Which Makes My Life Bearable, Because My Happiness With Human Beings Is So Precarious, My Confiding Moods Rare, And The Least Sign Of Non-interest Is Enough To Silence Me. In The Journal I Am At Ease.

If What Proust Says Is True, That Happiness Is The Absence Of Fever, Then I Will Never Know Happiness. For I Am Possessed By A Fever For Knowledge, Experience, And Creation.

The Cynic Is A Coward. He Foresees All Barrenness So That Barrenness Can Never Surprise Him.

I Adore The Struggle You Carry In Yourself. I Adore Your Terrifying Sincerity.