Dreams are all I have ever truly owned.

Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an' tho' a cloud's shape nor hue nor size don't stay the same, it's still a cloud an' so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud's blowed from or who the soul'll be 'morrow? Only Sonmi the east an' the west an' the compass an' the atlas, yay, only the atlas o' clouds.

Memories are their own descendents masquerading as the ancestors of the present.

Anticipating the end of the world is humanity's oldest passtime

As for reading, I wish I had a magic door to a library where I could go in, read for days and days, and come back in the same minute I left. I'm still looking for the door.

If your words're true, they're armed.

If I want to act relaxed, it's going to take all my cunning, skill, and concentration.