His speech failed to rouse an enthusiastic cheer, but no one dared contradict him.

I'm cursed with this puritanical streak that makes me want everything to be about something. It's a terrible affliction.

Here's all I know: that the world is uncontrollable. Chaos reigns. That anything and everything might be possible. I won't subscribe to any rational system again. Nothing will bind me.

But chance runs like a river through all our lives, and being prepared for surprise is the best we can do.

His speech failed to rouse an enthusiastic cheer, but no one dared contradict him.

It was as though, in one moment, he had become a stranger. And I a stranger to myself.

You're like something drawn with the sun's fire, and I can take only little glimpses of you.