We're on the other side of the fence now, Lena,' she says, tiredly, as she passes. "Don't you get it? You can't tell me what to feel.

And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.

If you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning.

The reason you can never go home again isn't necessarily that places change, but people do. So nothing ever looks the same.

Is this freedom? Is it happiness? I don't know. I don't care anymore. It is different--it is being alive.

....love and desire enjoy a symbiotic relationship, meaning that one cannot exist without the other. Desire is an enemy to contentment; desire is illness, a feverish brain. Who can be considered healthy who wants? The very word want suggests a lack, an impoverishment, and that is what desire is: an impoverishment of the brain, a flaw, a mistake.

That's the thing: We didn't really care. A world without love is also a world without stakes.