It doesn't matter. You are what you are. I am what I am. We are the same-when you take the time to remember me.

Death never comes at the right time, despite what mortals believe. Death always comes like a thief.

Nothing is as it seems. Black can appear white when the light is blinding but white loses all luster at the faintest sign of darkness.

But I wasn't a bad girl. I don't want to be forgotten. I want people to remember me.

For feeling, not events, is to me the essence of history.

I can only give you some hints. You have to place him in a situation where your advantages are magnified.

Why am I talking about all this? Who am I talking to? I send out these words, these thoughts, simply because it is time. Time for what, I do not know and it does not matter because it is what I want and that is always reason enough for me.