There are only so many times that you can utter ‘It does not hurt’ before it begins to hurt even more than the hurt. You become enlightened of the feeling of feeling hurt, which is worse, I am certain, than the existent hurt.

Years were passing through the spaces between moments.

I'm sorry for my inability to let unimportant things go, for my inability to hold on to the important things.

If it had and answer, it wouldn't really be love, would it?

Weeks passed like boats waiting to sail into the starless dawn, we were full of aimless endless darkness.

I can't even say 'hair pie,'' I told him, 'unless I'm talking about an actual pie made out of rabbits.

(You do not have to be shamed in my closeness. Family are the people who must never make you feel ashamed.) (You are wrong. Family are the people who must make you feel ashamed when you are deserving of shame.) (And you are deserving of shame?) (I am. I am trying to tell you.) 'We were stupid,' he said, 'because we believed in things.' 'Why is this stupid?' 'Because there are not things to believe in.' (Love?) (There is no love. Only the end of love.) (Goodness?) (Do not be a fool.) (God?) (If God exists, He is not to be believed in.)