I take much pleasure in being alone, but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.
I call him religious who understands the suffering of others.
I’ve dated people who didn’t have the capacity to love me the way I now understand I ought to be loved. They just weren’t in the position to and that’s okay.
Death drowns the unsatisfied man, whose restless mind clutches for greater and greater pleasures.
I like people who have a sense of individuality. I love expression and anything awkward and imperfect, because that’s natural and that’s real.