“I don’t think I am like other people. I mean on some deep fundamental level. It’s not just being outside when they’re all inside. I used to be inside. I think there’s a way I stand aside and look backwards at things when they’re happening which isn’t normal.”
“You don’t have a home until you leave it and then, when you have left it, you never can go back.”
It’s hard to get lost when you don’t know where you’re
"I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And, I was really … I was alive."
Dear sir, love your solitude and bear with sweet-sounding lamentation the suffering it causes you. For those who are near you are far, you say, and that shows it is beginning to grow wide about you. And when what is near you is far, then your distance is already among the stars and very large; rejoice in your growth, in which you naturally can take no one with you
I have infinite tenderness for you. I always will. All my life long.
When a patient begins to feel the inescapable nature of his inner development, he may easily be overcome by a panic fear that he is slipping helplessly into some kind of madness he can no longer understand. More than once I have had to reach for a book on my shelves, bring down an old alchemist, and show my patient his terrifying fantasy in the form in which it appeared four hundred years ago. This has a calming effect, because the patient then sees that he is not alone in a strange world which nobody understands, but is part of the great stream of human history, which has experienced countless times the very things that he regards as a pathological proof of his craziness.
IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMER TIME.
MY GORGEOUS BULLET IN TICKLING INTUITIVE FLIGHT
ACHES, JUST, SIMPLY, INTO, HER. THIRST
STIRRING. (MUST BE SUMMER. HUSH. WORMS.)
Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain. It was that day that I knew I wanted to tell the story of my family. Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.
The Lovely Bones