Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.

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If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.

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It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.

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Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.

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Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.

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Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.

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What happens when people open their hearts?" "They get better.

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But who can say what's best? That's why you need to grab whatever chance you have of happiness where you find it, and not worry about other people too much. My experience tells me that we get no more than two or three such chances in a life time, and if we let them go, we regret it for the rest of our lives.

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I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?

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Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting.

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