I Don`t Set The Alarm To Get

My Imagination Functions Much Better When I Don't Have To Speak To People.

January. It Was All Things. And It Was One Thing, Like A Solid Door. Its Cold Sealed The City In A Gray Capsule. January Was Moments, And January Was A Year. January Rained The Moments Down, And Froze Them In Her Memory: [...]every Human Action Seemed To Yield A Magic. January Was A Two-faced Month, Jangling Like Jester's Bells, Crackling Like Snow Crust, Pure As Any Beginning, Grim As An Old Man, Mysteriously Familiar Yet Unknown, Like A Word One Can Almost But Not Quite Define.

Everything Human Is Alien To Me.

I Find The Public Passion For Justice Quite Boring And Artificial.

Life Is A Long Failure Of Understanding ... A Long, Mistaken Shutting Of The Heart.