Time expands, then contracts, all in tune with the stirrings of the heart.

I was twenty-one at the time, about to turn twenty-two. No prospect of graduating soon, and yet no reason to quit school. Caught in the most curiously depressing circumstances. For months I'd been stuck, unable to take one step in any new direction. The world kept moving on; I alone was at a standstill. In the autumn, everything took on a desolate cast, the colors swiftly fading before my eyes. The sunlight, the smell of the grass, the faintest patter of rain, everything got on my nerves.

What I want is for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, like, passing on the street, or getting on the same bus.

I think I'll stay alive here a bit longer, and see with my own eyes what's going to happen. I can still die after that - it won't be too late. Probably.

I'm going to take you out of here ... I'm going to take you home, to the world where you belong, where cats with bent tails live, and there are little backyards, and alarm clocks ring in the morning.

The silence grew deeper, so deep that if you listened carefully you might very well catch the sound of the earth revolving on its axis.

The worst thoughts usually strike in the dead of the night.