Thoughts that pass through the mind. A sudden flash, a way of seeing the world. A desire to share.
“Writing is my remedy
against the impermanence
of things.”
Memory often dresses the past in order to make the present more bearable. Yet I prefer to dream of the future; it gives more meaning to the present.
If the privilege of the dead is not to die, as Nietzsche wrote, then the privilege of the living is to contemplate life and to nourish themselves on all that is marvellous within it.
Success, unlike failure, envelops us in a fleeting feeling that we are quick to believe we have never experienced before.
Anger is a little like a song without a chorus: you never quite know what its author meant to say.
In the mountains, the sky fades before the splendour of the landscape. But when night comes, it takes its revenge.
I love the muted gentleness of the word “euphemism.” Yet I use it sparingly: I prefer to call things by their names, without beating around the bush.
