He thought: How difficult it is to explain yourself to yourself. Sometimes there only is, and no knowing.

Is it better to go with the flow or let the flow go?

Fame, money and the size of the market are not very important to me. What is, is writing a book that is worth doing and then publishing it. I don't write books for entertainment, for people to pass the time then throw away.

I don't actually think “true love” is such a good term because love can only be true. If it isn't true it can't be love.

Self pity is a disease which does not kill but corrodes.

All the time I think I can never love you more than I already do. And then you do something or say something, and I love you more than ever. Like just now. Like now. How is it possible? Can you love someone more and more and at the same time, all the time, love them as much as it's possible to love someone?

And when someone else speaks your name you feel pleased. You feel wanted. You feel there. Alive. Even if they're saying your name with dislike, at least you know you're you, that you exist.