Some people are attracted to sickness, to the kind of madness where sparks fly off the head, to the incoherence of despair, masked by nervous energy, which winds up looking like bewildered joy.

When you think you are in love, you don't want to know about the things that could end it.

Drought brings out the worst in us and it's easy to hate your fellow human beings.

The very concept of solid ground is a myth. The galaxy itself is adrift.

If time stood still, and we could choose the time, the best time, then love without pain would be all I know.

Love could be fractured and serve different purposes, and that intense love could be divided, between people just as easily as between moments of time.

And I come to realise that all my small todays, the way I act, will lead into my tomorrows.