Delving into the past had unveiled a cruel lesson - that in the book of life it is perhaps best not to turn back pages; it was a path on which, whatever direction we took, we'd never be able to choose our own destiny.

The moment you stop to think about whether you love someone, you've already stopped loving that person forever.

I wondered what on earth she saw in me that could make her want to befriend me, other than a pale reflection of herself, an echo of solitude and loss. In my ..reveries, we were always two fugitives riding on the spine of a book, eager to escape into worlds of fiction and second hand dreams

I'm not talking to anyone, I'm delivering a monologue. It's the inebriated man's prerogative.

Are you not tempted to create a story for which men and women would live and die, for which they would be capable of killing and allowing them to be killed, of sacrificing and condemning themselves, of handling over their souls?

Never trust he who trusts everyone.

Where he had failed, I would triumph. Where he had lost his way, I would find the path out of the labyrinth.