I don't like being rumbled, I like to be invisible.

The thought of all that happiness was hard to bear. What's the point of happiness when all it does is throw the facts of dying into clear relief?

The end-of-summer winds make people restless.

It was entirely silent and I tried to breathe its peace.

Oh, the sweetness of giving in, of full surrender.

Sometimes my whole life seems like a dream; occasionally I think that someone else has lived it for me. The events and the sensations, the stories and the things that make me what I am in the eyes of other people, the list of facts that make my life ... They could be mine, they might be yours.

I'd never chosen to be alone, but that was the way things had turned out, and I'd grown used to it.