It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.

Her heart of compressed ash, which had resisted the most telling blows of daily reality without strain, fell apart with the first waves of nostalgia.

It was a lone voice in the middle of the ocean, but it was heard at great depth and great distance.

and it was always without pretensions of loving or being loved although always in the hope of finding something that resembled love but without the problems of love.

He really had been through death, but he had returned because he could not bear the solitude.

Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry.

Fame is very agreeable, but the bad thing is that it goes on 24 hours a day.