It’s a story of love, of hatred, and of the dreams that live in the shadow of the wind.

But in good time you'll see that sometimes what matters isn't what one gives but what one gives up.

Nothing is fair. The most one can hope is for things to be logical. Justice is a rare illness in a world that is otherwise a picture of health.

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

Some like to believe it's the book that chooses the person.

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

There are times and places where not to be anyone is more honourable than to be someone.