As eight years before, he was leaving ... to rewrite his destiny in orderly fashion.

It’s a strange grief…to die of nostalgia for something you never lived.

There is nothing that can, in the dark become true

As you see, it is not that I don't know my own mind, I know it very well but only up to a certain point in the matter. I know perfectly well what the question is. It's the answer I want.

Reasons get forgotten.

I did not love you out or boredom or loneliness or caprice. I loved you because the desire for you was stronger than any happiness.

To die of yearning for something you will never experience