Sad; so sad, those smoky-rose, smoky-mauve evenings of late Autumn, sad enough to pierce the heart.

Hope for the best, expect the worst.

She stood lost in eternity wearing a crazy dress, watching the immense sky.

A day without an argument is like an egg without salt.

Stars on our door, stars in our eyes, stars exploding in the bits of our brains where the common sense should have been

Reading a book is like re-writing it for yourself.

The end of exile is the end of being.