Behold, I have a mystery to tell.
‘O death where is thy sting?
You wanna win. Then you lose all your peace.
Desire is the chronic poison.
Oblivion is the best sedative.
My strategy is to be a brilliant fool.
True wits a wisp of breeze.
What makes for the emptiness? What makes up the emptiness? What am I searching for? What am I?
He who emphasizes gains and losses all the time would never be wiser.
Those learned have their knowledge speak for themselves. Those fools speak louder than their knowledge.
We wrote many things deserving a response but actually receiving none, like the stones deposited in the ocean, which makes me believe they are some of the funniest jokes, or the hollowest dreams.
Teachers, good or bad, all make us dream.
Have no need to cherish the past.
I’m a free bird, never destined to be caged.
I kept pursing and turned out nothing. I left, fed up with all of these. Am i freed? No, I’m prisoned once again.
— Life so tricky a haul, always treating me with endless pits and denying me the significant wits.
The days go no worse than when she was not there, worse though they are compared to those she was not away.