There's no such thing as perfect writing, just like there's no such thing as perfect despair.

Autumn finally arrived. And when it did, I came to a decision. Something had to give: I couldn't keep on living like this.

But actually time isn't a straight line. It doesn't ave a shape. In all senses of the term, it doesn't have any form. But since we can't picture something without form in our minds, for the sake of convenience we understand it as a straight line. At this point, humans are the only ones who can make that sort of conceptual substitution.

It's my motto for life. 'Walk slowly; drink lots of water.

Even castles in the sky can do with a fresh coat of paint.

The young man knows that he is irretrievably lost. This is no town of cats, he finally realizes. It is the place where he is meant to be lost. It is another world, which has been prepared especially for him. And never again, for all eternity, will the train stop at this station to take him back to the world he came from.

Huge organizations and me don't get along. They're too inflexible, waste too much time, and have too many stupid people.