All I wanted was what I'd already had. That exultation, that love. It was my one real home; I was a visitor everywhere else.

All I wanted was what I'd already had. That exultation, that love. It was my one real home; I was a visitor everywhere else.

No pain could match the emptiness of separation, no agony rivaled the unreality of not being with her.

The trouble with excuses, however, is that they become inevitably difficult to believe after they’ve been used a couple of times.

I thought of my mother (...). Freud wrote that no man is secure in the love of his mother can ever be a failure. Well, I had been busy proving that theory wrong.

I never felt so large and important as I did when being in love was everything. I saw you walking a foot above the earth and I remembered that was where I used to walk.

On a ship thats made of paper, I would sail the seven seas. (Just to be with you)