I want to write about people who dream and wait for the night to end, who long for the light so they can hold the ones they love.

I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.

A person's last moments are an important thing. You can't choose how you're born but you can choose how you die.

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.

Only the dead stay seventeen forever.

This uneasiness comes over me from time to time, and I feel as if I've somehow been pieced together from two different puzzles.

Ordinary imperfect people, always choose similarly imperfect people as friends.