I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once.

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

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If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.

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

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

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Why do people have to be this lonely? What's the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?

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I dream. Sometimes I think that's the only right thing to do.

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Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

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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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