I don’t know if I can trust you. If I can’t, please do me a favor and leave me alone. But if I can’t trust you, you are probably not the kind of person to leave, are you?
I spent my life making walls. But if I make it impossible for the enemy to get in, I make it hard for me to get out.
I have tried very hard to tear down the walls I spent a lifetime building. Emotionally, in many ways, I am still a child. An idiot savant, perhaps, but a child nonetheless.
I don’t want to be alone behind my walls. I am not always appropriate when I venture forth. But I try to be a decent man.
Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, Out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: One morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him. —Friedrich Nietzsche
Dragging behind you the silent reproach of a million tear stained eyes Don’t be surprised when a crack in the ice appears under your feet Thin Ice, Pink Floyd