No such thing as a man willing to be honest - that would be like a blind man willing to see.

He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone away and he could never go back anymore. The gates were closed, the sun was down, and there was no beauty left but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of youth, of illusion, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished.

For what it’s worth, it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be.

So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep happiness.

Most people think everybody feels about them much more violently than they actually do; they think other people's opinions of them swing through great arcs of approval or disapproval.

The greatest profound pain is cased by, and is the result of our own illusions, fantasies and dreams.

Those days are over. I have to be won all over again every time you see me.