Only because his journal is about his life, he has run out of ideas. There are other lives.
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- I left it alone, and it grew, until one day I open...
- I think they have won the day - they tour from on...
- First you may be dismayed, she said. Do not falter...
- The song always struck me as a piece of defiant hu...
- A solace is a quiet, private thing, a ripple in th...
- My clumsiness is valuable to me. I roam sideways, ...
- They bury treaure in the mountains. Not desiring t...
- Resistance is the first thing we meet. We step bac...
- You are deluded, and do all kinds of things becaus...
- Time travels backwards, sweeping our work into the...
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