Yes, Talking To People Makes Me Sleepy.

My Curiosity Sister Of Larks.

The Inventor Of The Mirror Poisoned The Human Heart.

I Want To Be A Work Of Art, At Least In My Soul, Since I Can’t Be One In My Body.

These Pages Are Not My Confession; They’re My Definition. And I Feel, As I Begin To Write It, That I Can Write It With Some Semblance Of Truth.

I’ve Dreamed A Lot. I’m Tired Now From Dreaming But Not Tired Of Dreaming. No One Tires Of Dreaming, Because To Dream Is To Forget, And Forgetting Does Not Weigh On Us, It Is A Dreamless Sleep Throughout Which We Remain Awake. In Dreams I Have Achieved Everything.