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One day, one page, one sketch of GREAT EXPECTATIONS, published daily at 8:40 AM.

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433When 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.

431Everything 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.

428When 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.

424Yearning 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.

423Living 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.

422I 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.

420When 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?