You came form different starts and you'll come to different ends.

He was still in love with you, anyway.

This is the language of the world before—a world of chaos and confusion and happiness and despair—before the blitz turned streets to grids, cities to prisons, and hearts to dust.

That's the way I feel, at least: like there's a real me and a reflection of me, and I have no way of telling which is which.

The sparrows jumped before they knew how to fly, and they learned to fly only because they had jumped.

You can't tell me what to feel

Most of the time one night blends into the next and weeks blend into weeks and months into other months. And sooner or later we all die. But at the beginning of the night anything’s possible.