The little things are important, Mr. Wind-Up Bird.

Forgive me for stating the obvious, but the world is made up of all kinds of people.

I'm all alone, but I'm not lonely.

While they're still alive, people can become ghosts.

As long as I was alive, I was something. That was just how it was. But somewhere along the way it all changed. Living turned me into nothing.

The rain that fell on the city runs down the dark gutters and empties into the sea without even soaking the ground

The honour of physical decline is waiting, and you have to get used to that reality.