Once she was out of the car and gone, my world was suddenly hollow and meaningless.

Who can really distinguish between the sea and what's reflected in it? Or tell the difference between the falling rain and loneliness?

Her smile steps offstage for a moment, then does an encore, all while I'm dealing with my blushing face.

Things pass us by. Nobody can catch them. That's the way we live our lives.

As long as you have the courage to admit mistakes, things can be turned around.

It made her think of Laika, the dog. The man-made satellite streaking soundlessly across the blackness of outer space. The dark, lustrous eyes of the dog gazing out the tiny window. In the infinite loneliness of space, what could the dog possibly be looking at?

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.