You make me miserable. You really do, I want you to know that. Much as I love you, much as I need you, much as I can't exist without you, you make me miserable.

You think I live in the past. You don't understand that I actually change with every era, I always have as best I can

Go where the pain is, go where the pleasure is.

You reach deep down and bring up what feels absolutely authentic to you as you move along with the book, but you don't know everything about it. You can't.

You are someone worth loving

Maybe a new religion will rise now. Maybe without it, man will crumble in cynicism and selfishness because he really needs his gods.

I find at moments I'm as fragile as glass.