That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed.

Too much talking these days. Talk talk talk. This country would get along much better if people learned how to suffer in silence.

You're brave. You are the bravest person I know, and you are my friend. I don't care if you are imaginary.

You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell. You grieve. Then you continue with your life. And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on. She is dead. You are alive. So live.

There are some as are what they are. And there are some as aren't what they seem to be. And there are some as only seem to be what they seem to be.

All around me darkness gathers, Fading is the sun that shone, We must speak of other matters, You can be me when I'm gone Flowers gathered in the morning, Afternoon they blossom on, Still are withered in the evening, You can be me when I'm gone.

There's not much high and low culture any more: there's just mingling streams of art and what matters is whether it's good art or bad art.