When people fall in love, they burst into flames.

grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust that buries itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping

I wish my shadow would get up and walk beside me.

The first thing I notice is the sky, so full of blue and the kind of brilliant white clouds that make you ecstatic to have eyes. Nothing can go wrong under this sky.

That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.

I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.

If bad luck knows who you are, become someone else.