The things that have come into being change continually. The man with a good memory remembers nothing because he forgets nothing.
No court can make time stand still.
Even Castles made of sand, fall into the sea, eventually.
Whatever is a reality today, whatever you touch and believe in and that seems real for you today, is going to be - like the reality of yesterday - an illusion tomorrow.
Forms disappear, words remain, to signify the impossible.
What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself.
The world exists to end up in a book.
I try desperately to conquer the transitory nature of my existence, to trap moments before they evenesce, to untangle the confusion of my past. Every instant disappears in a breath and immediately becomes the past; reality is ephemeral and changing, pure longing.
