Once, I was a poet, and, like all poets, I spent too long in the Kingdom of Dreams.

People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales.

And if there's a moral there, I don't know what it is, save maybe that we should take our goodbyes whenever we can.

He goes his way. We travel a spiral. The quickest way is sometimes the longest.

A life that is, like any other, unlike any other.

You know what the really scary thing about bad dreams? It's that something's going on in your head, and you can't control it. I mean, It's like there's these bad worlds inside you. But it's just you... it's like you're betraying yourself.

Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. Truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.