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

That's what the world is , after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.

I can be hurt, you know. I can get as exhausted as anybody else. I can feel so bad I want to cry, too.

A person's last moments are an important thing. You can't choose how you're born but you can choose how you die.

As I see it, you are living with something that you keep hidden deep inside. Something heavy. I felt it from the first time I met you. You have a strong gaze, as if you have made up your mind about something. To tell you the truth, I myself carry such things around inside. Heavy things. That is how I can see it in you.

In dreams begins responsiblities.

I wasn't in love with her. And she didn't love me. For me the question of love was irrelevant. What I sought was the sense of being tossed about by some raging, savage force, in the midst of which lay something absolutely crucial. I had no idea what that was. But I wanted to thrust my hand right inside her body and touch it, whatever it was.