Whenever you get there, there is no there there.

“it felt like you threw me so far from myself i’ve been trying to find my way back ever since”

This November there seems to be nothing to say.

You only know me as you see me, not as I actually am

…I will have to hold that silence. There will be no track anymore. There will be only that peculiar waiting. There will be nothing to pick up. There will be nothing.

It was not the feeling of completeness I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.

It is better to say, “I am suffering,” than to say, “This landscape is ugly.”

In loneliness, the lonely one eats himself; in a crowd, the many eat him. Now choose.

It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.

… and the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows.

I didn’t want to use the wrong words. I was afraid that words might betray it. I waited. I’m still not sure that it was the wrong move, or the right move, that is, whether to choose language or silence.

Home, I said. In every language there is a word for it. I said, home.

Emotionalism and sensibility are my quicksands.