And there is not anything in the world stronger than tenderness.

All humans are frightened of their own solitude. But only in solitude can we learn to know ourselves, learn to handle our own eternal aloneness.

Love from one being to another can only be that two solitudes come nearer, recognize and protect and comfort each other.

We are all products of our time, vulnerable to history.

It is the illusion of all lovers to think themselves unique and their words immortal.

Many events seem to happen twice to me; even trifles, unimportant-seeming, recur, as if I were destined to live them again, time reconquered, but with added knowledge and a different outcome.

Goldfish are flowers ... flowers that move.