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We are often insane with happiness. We are also very unhappy for reasons neither of us can do anything about. Like being separated.
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It’s dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.
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Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.
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We laugh and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.
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The pain has left but I know that it has not gone far, that it is sulking somewhere in a corner or under the bed and it will jump out when I least expect it.
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Chaos is more freedom; in fact, total freedom. But no meaning.
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What is more basic than the need to be known? It is the entirety of intimacy, the elixir of love, this knowing.
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Listen, sometimes when you finally find out, you realize that you were much better off not knowing.
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Love the world and yourself in it, move through it as though it offers no resistance, as though the world is your natural element.
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When the woman you live with is an artist, every day is a surprise.
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Don't you think it's better to be extremely happy for a short while, even if you lose it, than to be just okay for your whole life?
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I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always.