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Only a fool plays the cards he's dealt.

Nothing changes if nothing changes.

"We are round, and roll as do. Surely they are mine as I am theirs. We are that of khef, ka, and ka-tet, watch and warrant. Gunslingers, do ya."

"See the turtle, ain't he keen, all things serve the f$ck!ng beam."

For the small children, bedtime is come. Time for the babies to be packed into their beds and cribs by parents who smile at their cries to be let up a little longer, to leave the light on. They indulgently open closet doors to show there is nothing in there. And all around them, the bestiality of the night rises on tenebrous wings. The vampire’s time has come.

“In Monterey, at the small airport rental agency, he hired a vomit-green Ford Tempo.
It was an offense to his refined sense of color. The Tempo's tempo was satisfyingly allegro on flat roads but a bit adagio on the hills.”

Be yourself; everyone else is already taken. - Oscar Wilde

“Gradually, gradually, the snow was becoming heavier, the sound of its seething louder, the cobblestones more and more muffled. When he found, each morning, on going to the window, after the ritual of listening, that the roofs and cobbles were bare as ever, it made no difference. This was, after all, only what he had expected. It was even what pleased him, what rewarded him: the thing was his own, belonged to no one else. No one else knew about it, not even his mother and father.

There, outside, were the bare cobbles; and here, inside, was the snow. Snow growing heavier each day, muffling the world, hiding the ugly, and deadening increasingly-above all-the steps of the postman.”

When you get up in the morning and go to work, you’re trading your life for a handful of dimes.

  Toward the sun his hands were lifted,

Both the palms spread out against it,

And between the parted fingers

Fell the sunshine on his features,

Flecked with light his naked shoulders,

As it falls and flecks an oak-tree

Through the rifted leaves and branches.

From the Song of Hiawatha by Longfellow. If you have never read it, bless yourself with a few minutes.

“If you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing was ever going to happen again.”

I know these feelz.

”All great and precious things are lonely.”

John Steinbeck

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. There is a reason why all things are as they are. I want you to believe...to believe in things that you cannot.