Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment.

Later as the day cools and they have gone in, the cry of the corncrake will carry across those same fields and over the lake to the blue-hazed mountain, such a lonely evening sound to it, like the lonely evening sound of the mothers, saying it is not our fault that we weep so, it is nature's fault that makes us first full, then empty.

Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment.

We all leave one another. We die, we change - it's mostly change - we outgrow our best friends; but even if I do leave you, I will have passed on to you something of myself; you will be a different person because of knowing me; it's inescapable.

I know the mistake I am making. I see the exits in life.

It was the first time that I came face to face with madness and feared it and was fascinated by it.

I knew I had done something awful. I had killed love, before I even knew the enormity of what love meant.