The last light, in the last window, went out. Only the unstoppable machine of the sea still tears away at the silence with the cyclical explosion of nocturnal waves, distant memories of sleepwalking storms and the shipwrecks of dream.

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.

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

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.

There is nothing that can, in the dark become true

You were dead.' She said. 'And in the whole world there was nothing beautiful left.

We are full of words whose true meaning we haven't been taught, and one of those words is suffering. Another is the word death. We don't know what they mean, but we use them, and this is a mystery.