A miserable collection of little secrets, that's all any of us is.

When it comes to books and friends, it is best to have only a few but all good ones.

It seemed as if I could see things in her that others couldn't see, qualities which not even she was aware of. It was as I I could already see in her the woman she would later become.

Why was love such an addictive drug? Why did loving someone cause such suffering?

On calm days, you always think you've conquered them. You think that in the end you've finally done them in. That you've got rid of them for good, now and forever. But that seldom happens. Most of the time, the demons are still there, lurking somewhere in the shadows. Tirelessly waiting for the moment when our guard drops. And when love goes away.

Even when apologising, this guy turns on the charm. And the worst thing is that it works. She had reached a point in her life where she no longer expected anything from men, though that didn't stop her from falling in love with them.

We are young, but We already know that in life's great game those who are most unhappy are those who haven't taken the risk to be happy. And I don't want to be one of those