We naively feel worthy of some little confidence from others in return of the little confidence we give them. We should rather swallow that confidence with vice and blood, because there is no logic in that non-existent exchange. Act at your own risk.
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Day/Page/Sketch #433
When you speak, you give away your secrets. Everybody speaks. We speak more now than ever before. Not only that, we want to speak louder than everyone else. We want to be the chatterbox queen and king. When you speak, you stop being an artist.
Day/Page/Sketch #432
Let’s conjugate Fate: I was, I am, I will… How contemptuous. Enduring existence is such a wearing occupation, such an impractical career. Everybody should know their own business.
Day/Page/Sketch #431
Everything decays at every moment. Emotions, thoughts, ideas, not just the palpable. The rays of romanticism that long surround us are everything but permanent. They dissolute insipidly in the darkness.
Day/Page/Sketch #430
Day/Page/Sketch #429
When we lose someone, the smallest things bring to our mind the memory of the tragedy, and they also remind us that nothing protects existence. Everything is irreversible and irrevocable.
Day/Page/Sketch #428
When I was a kid no one told me that some people show love by tearing the people they love down. I would have thought then that it was a ridiculous idea, until I started finding out that it’s not an exception. A lot of people understand love exclusively when they make the people they love suffer. It’s disgusting.
Day/Page/Sketch #427
The moment you look at a painting and you feel that painting is you, although you can’t really put it into words because you are human and not everything human can be put into words.
Day/Page/Sketch #426
Everything repeats itself in this Universe. Chaos becomes a dull routine. We drag on, in vain, invalidating our dreams, loathing everything and idolizing life. We watch beauty rot before our eyes, and resentfulness blossoms.
Day/Page/Sketch #425
We are second-hand people. We live on what we are told. There is nothing new in us.
Day/Page/Sketch #424
Yearning for those perfect days to part with things, people, possessions or ideas that I no longer want. Every vestige of phantom air vanishes and gives way with a solemn voice to a new vivacity. Forgive yourself, numerous times.
Day/Page/Sketch #423
Living in a permanent isolating cell, overwhelmed with our amplified selfish struggles, we could not live day after day if the chance of terminating our life on our own terms would not make us begin things over and over again. Until the moment it doesn’t.
Day/Page/Sketch #422
I felt before a strong presentiment that either something was about to happen, or that something was never going to happen again. The sense of premonition was so compelling, so explicit. Luckily, the chances of things actually happening, or not happening, is 50-50. Acting on presentiments alone will most likely destroy you and isolate you.
Day/Page/Sketch #421
The best way to shake away any lingering regrets, no matter how small, is to tell our story, without any commiseration.
Day/Page/Sketch #420
When we are offered an open door out of our bitter isolation and despair, we stubbornly refuse to go out that way. When we’re sidestepping near to a bottomless abyss that will destroy us, we feel we deserve to jump in. By nature, we always choose wrong first, maybe because we refuse to live an insipid an talentless life?
