Like a Chinese box, the world of the novel contained smaller worlds, and inside those were yet smaller worlds. Together, these worlds made up a single universe, and the universe waited there in the book to be discovered by the reader.

I've always liked libraries. They're quiet and full of books and full of knowledge.

To know one’s own state is not a simple matter. One cannot look directly at one’s own face with one’s own eyes, for example. One has no choice but to look at one’s reflection in the mirror. Through experience, we come to believe that the image is correct, but that is all.

I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt but I was wrong.

He does not exist here, with me, but flesh that does not exist will never die, and promises unmade are never broken.

What I think is this: You should give up looking for lost cats and start searching for the other half of your shadow.

That's all I think about these days. Must be because I have so much time to kill every day. When you don't have anything to do, your thoughts get really, really far out - so far out you can't follow them all the way to the end.