Behind everything we feel, there is always a sense of fear.
Thought itself needs words. It runs on them like a long wire. And if it loses the habit of words, little by little it becomes shapeless, somber.
At any given moment, I open my eyes and exist.
Murderers, in general, are people who are consistent, people who are obsessed with one idea and nothing else.
Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.
Each of us is the only person who can give the other what each of us wants to have: Peace.