There are so many ways to be alive, but only one way to be dead.

As the rifles were pointed at his chest he wondered if what he had taken for the richness of silence was really the poverty of never being heard.

At the end, all that’s left of you are your possessions. Perhaps that’s why I’ve never been able to throw anything away. Perhaps that’s why I hoarded the world: with the hope that when I died, the sum total of my things would suggest a life larger than the one I lived.

To lose you have to have had. Ah? So now you’re a stickler for details? Have, didn’t have! Listen to you! You made a profession out of losing. A champion loser you were. And yet. Where’s the proof you ever had her? Where’s the proof that she was yours to have?

I wanted to describe the world, because to live in an undescribed world was too lonely.

He had no idea it would be the last. He thought everything was just beginning.

“Because nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you.”)

grateful for the world which purposefully puts divisions in place so that we can overcome them, feeling the joy of getting closer, even if deep down we can never forget the sadness of our insurmountable differences.

Her kiss was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.