In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.

So what’s wrong if there happens to be one guy in the world who enjoys trying to understand you?

My arm was not what she needed, but the arm of someone else. My warmth was not what she needed, but the warmth of someone else.

Deep rivers run quiet.

I’m the kind of person who likes to be by himself. To put a finer point on it, I’m the type of person who doesn’t find it painful to be alone. I find spending an hour or two every day running alone, not speaking to anyone, as well as four or five hours alone at my desk, to be neither difficult nor boring. I’ve had this tendency ever since I was young, when, given a choice, I much preferred reading books on my own or concentrating on listening to music over being with someone else. I could always think of things to do by myself.

It's like the Tibetan Wheel of the Passions. As the wheel turns, the values and feelings on the outer rim rise and fall, shining or sinking into darkness. But true love stays fastened to the axle and doesn't move.

Tell me, Doctor, are you afraid of death?" "I guess it depends on how you die.