Each of us is the only person who can give the other what each of us wants to have: Peace.

Behind everything we feel, there is always a sense of fear.

Every tiny part of us cries out against the idea of dying, and hopes to live forever.

Who cares about great marks left behind? We have one life... just one. Our life. We have nothing else.

Each of us is the only person who can give the other what each of us wants to have: Peace.

Sisterly love is, of all sentiments, the most abstract. Nature does not grant it any functions.

When I say "I," I mean a thing absolutely unique, not to be confused with any other.