It's a sad thing to watch your best friend turn into somebody you don't know anymore. Or even want to know.

The thing is, all memory is fiction.

I wasn't safe. I wasn't permanent. My life was a fiction I had created, like an alien who comes to earth and tries to pass as human. The affections of my friends meant nothing to me, directed, as they were, toward a person who wasn't there. There was nobody home.

I would give anything, anything, to be the man to whom this has not happened. I can not accommodate myself to it. In a lifetime of trying, I can not accommodate myself to it. And now I will have to be that person forever.

It's a sad thing to watch your best friend turn into somebody you don't know anymore. Or even want to know.

If love drove people mad, what would lack of love do?

There is a loveliness to life that does not fade. Even in the terrors of the night, there is a tendency toward grace that does not fail us.