When you're cold, don't expect sympathy from someone who's warm.

Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.


How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.

Even if I now saw you
Only once,
I would long for you
Through worlds,

Worlds.

"I don’t want hope. Hope is killing me. My dream is to become hopeless. When you’re hopeless you don’t care. And when you don’t care, that indifference makes you attractive." --George Costanza.

«Sabes, con la certidumbre más
inquietante, que lo que rige la vida no es el dinero, ni la política, ni la
religión, ni la educación, ni la raza, ni la lengua, ni las costumbres, sino
otra cosa, algo que estás intentando sofocar y que en realidad te está
sofocando a ti; porque, si no, no te sentirías tan aterrorizado de repente ni
te preguntarías cómo vas a escapar.»

31 de diciembre, un día para descubrir, maravillarse y -en mi caso- constatar y situar. 1 de enero, un día para reflexionar sobre lo aprendido, sufrir quizás, y luego tratar de vivir en paz.