My imagination is a kind of animal. So what I do is keep it alive.

The unwaking world was as hushed as a deep forest.

Exhaustion pays no mind to age or beauty. Like rain and earthquakes and hail and floods.

I happen to like the strange ones. People who look normal and leads normal lives - they're the ones you have to watch out for.

Hundreds of butterflies flitted in and out of sight like short-lived punctuation marks in a stream of consciousness without beginning or end.

An expectation was there, mixed in with so many other emotions - excitement, resignation, hesitation, confusion, fear - that would well up then wither on the vine. You're optimistic one moment, only to be racked the next by the certainty that it will all fall to pieces. And in the end it does.

I was reborn," she said, her hot breath brushing his ear. "You were reborn," Tengo said. "Because I died once." "You died once," Tengo repeated. "On a night when there was a cold rain falling," she said. "Why did you die?" "So I would be reborn like this." "You would be reborn," Tengo said. "More or less," she whispered quietly. "In all sorts of forms.