The ghosts that exert the most power in people__ lives-at least, the people I know__end to be of their own making, and consist of equal parts regret and old fears and just plain missing somebody.

This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.

Was it possible to feel nostalgic about something that had never happened to him, possible for nostalgia to be taken in by the body as a free pathogen to infect the consciousness with stray sentiments? Perhaps, in his dreams, he had traveled back in time, or even drifted into another dimension of space-time and inhabited the body, experiences, and nostalgia of another. To even envisage so allowed the trauma of those lost moments, though not his own, to draw from him a certain envy for the entity in whose memories he had basked vicariously. . .Perhaps, nostalgia was a microorganism. . .the bacterium that infected. . . Yes. . .maybe he was sick.

I guess everybody thinks about old times, even the happiest people.

Fate would never permit happiness to a man of such talent-a content poet is a mediocre one, a happy poet is insufferable.

Don't ever say you are sorry for "being caught in the moment". Because, at that moment, that is EXACTLY where you wanted to be.