When people are dead, you can forgive them ’most anything.
They were too clear and detailed to have been a fantasy, and too whole and beautiful to have been real.
April and May were painful, lonely months for me because I couldn’t talk to you. I never knew that spring could be so painful and lonely. Better to have three Februaries than a spring like this.
All he could do was wait like this, patiently, until it grew light out and the birds awoke and began their day. All he could do was trust in the birds, in all the birds, with their wings and beaks.
For a while is a phrase whose length can’t be measured. At least by the person who’s waiting. And probably is a word whose weight is incalculable.
Waves of consciousness roll in, roll out, leave some writing, and just as quickly new waves roll in and erase it. I try to quickly read what’s written there, but it’s hard.
Talent is like a container. You can work as hard as you want, but the size will never change. It’ll only hold so much water and no more.
But from the first time I met Ame, I was drawn right into her. I couldn’t resist her. And I knew it was happening. I knew it wasn’t going to come my way again, not in this life. That’s when I decided – if I go with her, there’ll come a time that I’ll regret it. But if I don’t go with her, I’ll be losing the key to my existence. Have you ever felt that way about something?
I could drink my coffee, read my book, pass the time of day without any special thought, all because I was part of the regular scenery. Here I had no ties to anyone. Fact is, I’d come to reclaim myself.
It’s simple. If there’s no station, no trains will stop there.
I’m safe inside this container called me.
The more you think about illusions, the more they’ll swell up and take on form. And no longer be an illusion.
Some people are polite, and some are quick. Each one’s a good quality to have, but most of the time quickness trumps politeness.
The world was big and full of weird things and strange people.
The girl was rotten inside. Peel off a layer of that beautiful skin, and you’d find nothing but rotten flesh.
It was just that, no matter where I found myself, I felt like there was a hole inside me, with the wind rushing through. I never felt satisfied. From the outside you wouldn’t imagine I had any troubles.
Death was as silent as the ocean bottom, as sweet as a rose in May.
All I can do is live the life I have. I can’t trade it in for a new one. However strange and misshapen it might be, this is it for the gene carrier that is me.
When it came down to it, though, could anything be completely correct, or completely incorrect? We lived in a world where rain might fall thirty percent, or seventy percent, of the time. Truth was probably no different. There could be thirty percent or seventy percent truth.
I had to put my faith in time.