If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.

She was, if anything, on the plain side, at least not the type to attract men wherever she went. But there was something in her face that was meant for me alone. Everytime we met, I took a good look at her. And loved what I saw.

It's like a kid standing at the window watching the rain.

Mediocrity's like a spot on a shirt—it never comes off.

A fortunate author can write maybe twelve novels in his lifetime.

Once thing goes wrong, then the whole house of cards collapses. And there's no way you can extricate yourself. Until someone comes along to drag you out.

An empty shell. Those were the first words that sprang to mind. .... Something incredibly important - .. - had disappeared from Miu for good. Leaving behind not life, but its absence