There is nothing like champagne to ensure sweet dreams.
Time is a cruel thief to rob us of our former selves. We lose as much to life as we do to death.
After tonight I will not date put pen to paper again. A blank page to me is like a drink to an alcoholic. 
Would that we could soar forever beyond the reach of earth, away from the dangers that await us the moment we alight.
We are all so much more complicated than we allow ourselves to appear. 
Life causes estrangement enough - why do we add to it out of misplaced pride?
