“To be in love with one of those images was worse than being in love with a ghost (perhaps we always want the person we love to have the existenceof a ghost).”

But still I know that writing this diary can perhaps provide the answer; it may even help produce the right future.

Not only do we traverse a realm of shadows; but ourselves are shadows.

Like all unrequited love, takes its toll in the long run.

It is widely held in high regard.

To be on an island inhabited by artificial ghosts was the most unbearable of nightmares

Love is a privilege perception, the most total and lucid not only of the unreality of the world but of our own unreality

The sea is endless when you are in a rowboat.

Which one will it be? Time alone will tell.

Life has now taught me that love for things,

The body is imaginary, and we bow to the tyranny of a phantom.

I believe we lose immortality because we have not conquered our opposition to death;

And the reason I am so nervous is that everything I do now is leading me to one of three possible futures…

People love nobody as much as they do their hatred.

Makes almost everybody uncomfortable, and a few, extraordinarily rich.

Perhaps we always want the person we love, to have the existence of a ghost.

Revolution: Political movement which gets many people´s hopes up, let´s even more people down

The dogma of the Ghost in the machine.

If you go into an underground train in London – probably anywhere, but chiefly in London – there’s that sense of almost entering a ghostly dimension. People are very still and quiet; they don’t exchange many pleasantries.

True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.

And darling, I hope your remember to kiss the ghosts goodnight. They are only older versions of you that you have had to discard and forget.

Ghosts of the person you used to be are so proud of who you are, they live on inside you applauding you for living on despite your scars.

The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become, storm child made of wild and flame.

On nights I cant sleep, your ghost puts me back to sleep.

When the light at Vernon turned green, we stepped into the street and George grabbed my hand and the ghosts of our younger selves crossed with us.