It's what you do to yourself when you go mad with rage. You have no idea how much you can hurt yourself with your own strength.

But just as the river is always at the door, so is the world always outside. And it is in the world that we have to live.

Death comes suddenly and life is fragile and brief. No one can alter this either by prayers or spells.

I am not made for despair

It's like a spell. It's so strong I can't fight it. Is love always like this?

I miss the days when I was alone with my characters and no one else knew them except me.

How was it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?