Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last.

Because to write, one must truly suffer.

Every author that creates is a liar;literature is a lie,but from that lie, a recreation of reality is born. Therefore, recreating reality is one of the fundaments of creation.

I am talking about misery and all of its implications.

Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last.

There was no air; only the dead, still night fired by the dog days of August. Not a breath. I had to suck in the same air I exhaled, cupping it in my hands before it escaped. I felt it, in and out, less each time…until it was so thin it slipped through my fingers forever. I mean, forever.

No one knows better than I do how far heaven is, but I also know all the shortcuts. The secret is to die, when you want to, and not when He proposes. Or else to force Him to take you before your time.