Everyone just keeps on disappearing. Some things vanish, like they were cut away. Others fade slowly into the mist. And all that remains is a desert.

When the fire goes out, you'll start feeling the cold. You'll wake up whether you want to or not.

Mere humans who root through their refrigerators at three o'clock in the morning can only produce writing that matches what they do. And that includes me.

Even if you managed to escape from one cage, weren't you just in another, larger one?

The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts.

All of us are imperfect human beings living in an imperfect world.

Whenever I look at the ocean, I always want to talk to people, but when I'm talking to people, I always want to look at the ocean.