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We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way.
我们生来孤独,活着孤独,死去孤独。尽管有那些浪漫杂志的渲染,终有一天我们会回顾一生,发现尽管有人相伴,我们始终孤独。
I write to make sense of the world, to give it a shape, a form.
History is the shadow cast by the present.