I reflect at the people under the spell of illusion, they start the day confident and speak with self-assurance but have no power.

Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.

I reflect at the people under the spell of illusion, they start the day confident and speak with self-assurance but have no power.

I have fought and conquered the dark alone. I feel I am a dangerous woman.

This morning I feel oddly happy. The secret of peace: it is unnecessary to have a problem. The rain is lovely and I will read novels life seems so meanderingly pleasant. I do nothing and will be joyful.

I've been thinking, I have a chance to emerge from a world of hate.

This rosy mortal illusion continued to be a consolation, for I knew that we had better purpose than this.

Try to write the truth about life.

Who knows anything about life? The human body is merely a mechanism. Life is electricity, running vital substance in these bodies.

It was the first decision she had made to determine the course of her life. Here and now, on a quiet bed of freedom she felt so free, so happy. This is up to me.

An artist must love to be any good. If one could take away their emotions, their souls would be stolen.

Her most irrational mood has the fire of genius.
