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Память согревает человека изнутри. И в то же время рвет его на части.
Что толку напрягать мозги, если их все равно не хватает? Одна головная боль.
Одно можно сказать: вещь, несущая в себе определенное несовершенство, привлекает именно своим несовершенством. По крайней мере, определенных людей.
Моя жизнь достаточно скучна, но не на столько, чтобы надоесть совсем
The more you think about illusions, the more they'll swell up and take on form. And no longer be an illusion.
Things change every day. With each new dawn it's not the same world as the day before. And you're not the same person you were, either.
...and once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you.
No matter how far you run. Distance might not solve anything.
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