..finally he was just another ant, working and working until he died without meaning.

Mere humans who root through their refrigerators at three o'clock in the morning can only produce writing that matches what they do. And that includes me.

Everyone who has something is afraid of losing it, and people with nothing are worried they'll forever have nothing. Everyone is the same.

Friends don't need the intervention of a third party. Friendship's a voluntary thing.

It was a strange feeling, like touching a void.

I would stare at the grains of light suspended in that silent space, struggling to see into my own heart. What did I want? And what did others want from me? But I could never find the answers. Sometimes I would reach out and try to grasp the grains of light, but my fingers touched nothing.

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