A prolonged silence ensues. The reason for the silence is our growing interest one for the other. No one is aware of it, no one yet; no one? am I quite sure?

Get rid of things or you'll spend your whole life tidying up.

A book consists of two layers: on top, the readable layer ... and underneath, a layer that was inaccessible. You only sense its existence in a moment of distraction from the literal reading, the way you see childhood through a child. It would take forever to tell what you see, and it would be pointless.

Fidelity, enforced and unto death, is the price you pay for the kind of love you never want to give up, for someone you want to hold forever, tighter and tighter, whether he's close or far away, someone who becomes dearer to you the more you've sacrificed for his sake.

Oh, how good it is to be with someone, sometimes.

The words emerge from her body without her realizing it, as if she were being visited by the memory of a language long forsaken.

That she had so completely recovered her sanity was a source of sadness to her. One should never be cured of one's passion.