w i t c h

“There are some things about myself I can’t explain to anyone. There are some things I don’t understand at all. I can’t tell what I think about things or what I’m after. I don’t know what my strengths are or what I’m supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people.”

“We pull the strings and watch the curtain closing. The lights go dim, they’ve flickered out, the puppets sleep inside the trunk while, slowly now, the theater’s dismantled. That’s how it goes. And now we find it’s time to say farewell, wish you the best, a bon voyage of sorts, a flowersting, the little kiss that takes us to the end. And here we are, the end, last page, and only one thing left to say, with love: goodnight.”

“Has it ever struck you that life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quick you hardly catch it going?”

“To be lyrical from suffering means to achieve that inner purification in which wounds cease to be mere outer manifestations without deep complication and begin to participate in the essence of your being. The lyricism of suffering is a song of the blood, the flesh, and the nerves.”