He was outcast from life’s feast.
Paris is one of the most beautiful places in all the world. Unfortunately, I was so homesick I couldn’t appreciate its beauty.
My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool it gives me all the world, and exiles me from it.
We are all sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins, for life.
I have three phobias which, could I mute them, would make my life as slick as a sonnet, but as dull as ditch water: I hate to go to bed, I hate to get up, and I hate to be alone.
