What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd fought for you. I was weak and stupid.

‎"Is it possible to both want and not want something at the same time? For desire to ride with fear?

I cannot imagine how I will cope when I discover that my life is behind me, has already happened, and I have nothing to show for it. No treasure house of collection, no wealth of experience, no accumulated wisdom to pass on. What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

There were never going to be any happy endings for me. I know that now. But that is all right.

I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless. I didn't feel ashamed.

Do you trust me? The question is usually asked before an admission that such trust is misplaced.