It's hard being left behind. (...) It's hard to be the one who stays.

It's hard being left behind. (...) It's hard to be the one who stays.

Maybe I'm dreaming you. Maybe you're dreaming me; maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other.

Sometimes I'm happy when he's gone, but I'm always happy when he returns. -Clare

Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.

Listen, sometimes when you finally find out, you realize that you were much better off not knowing.

Martin said, "It feels as though part of my self has detached and gone to Amsterdam, where it—she—is waiting for me. Do you know about phantom-limb syndrome?" Julia nodded. "There's pain where she ought to be. It's feeding the other pain, the thing that makes me wash and count and all that. So her absence is stopping me from going to find her. Do you see?