We are second-hand people. We live on what we are told. There is nothing new in us.

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.

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.

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.

The best way to shake away any lingering regrets, no matter how small, is to tell our story, without any commiseration.

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?

Knowledge has no advantage. There is no progression, no conclusion. It is as opulent and blank in the end as it is in the beginning. An idiot can experience enlightenment and still be an idiot.

Are you very unhappy now?

How do you stop being a darling? #1: cultivate and air of utter loneliness; #2: become all stone; #3: act tremulously.