Memory Is The Happiness Of Being Alone.

I Turn To Books For A Feeling Of Companionship: For Somebody Knowing What I Have Known.

The Mind Can’t Explain It, And You Can’t Make It Go Away. It’s Called Love.

I Don't Know What She Is Now. A Stranger, Mostly. It's As If She Has Become A Part Of A Different World, One That Doesn't Include Me Anymore.

He Hunched His Shoulders And Tried To Make Himself Smaller In The Seat. He Wanted To Disappear, To Fade Away, Not To Exist.

Submitting To Censorship Is To Enter The Seductive World Of 'the Giver': The World Where There Are No Bad Words And No Bad Deeds. But It Is Also The World Where Choice Has Been Taken Away And Reality Distorted. And That Is The Most Dangerous World Of All.