The curious thing about individuals is that their singularity always goes beyond any category or generalization in the book.

It's because of you when I'm in bed in the morning that I can wind my spring and tell myself I have to live another good day.

But the silence spoke volumes.

A friend to kill time is a friend sublime.

The things she most wanted to tell him would lose their meaning the moment she put them into words.

No matter what they wish for, no matter how far they go, people can never be anything but themselves. That's all.

What we call the present is given shape by an accumulation of the past.