In the morning, when the nothing vase casts a something shadow, like the memory of someone you've lost, what can you say about that?

If nothing matters, there's nothing to save.

Flea-Market vendors are frozen mid-haggle. Middle-aged women are frozen in the middle of their lives. The gavels of frozen judges are frozen between guilt and innocence. On the ground are the crystals of the frozen first breaths of babies, and those of the last gasps of the dying.

Everyone performs bad actions... A bad person is someone who does not lament his bad actions.

And the general shot my sister. I could not look at her, but I remember the sound of when she hit the ground. I hear that sound when things hit the ground still. Anything.' If I could, I would make it so nothing ever hit the ground again.

I never confused what I had with what I was.

Maybe I'll try to be more patient with morons.