Isn't it true that it's not people who meet, but rather the shadows cast by their imaginations?

Isn't it true that it's not people who meet, but rather the shadows cast by their imaginations?

Human beings can't bear silence.It would mean that they would bear themselves.

I love tunnels. They 're the symbol of hope: sometime it will be bright again. If by chance it is not night.

To live for the moment: it sounds so right and so beautiful. But the more I want to, the less I understand what it means.

But when we set out to understand somebody’s inside? Is that a trip that ever ends? Is the soul a place of facts? Or are the alleged facts only the deceptive shadows of our stories?

So, the fear of death might be described as the fear of not being able to become whom one had planned to be.