But who can say what's best? That's why you need to grab whatever chance you have of happiness where you find it, and not worry about other people too much. My experience tells me that we get no more than two or three such chances in a life time, and if we let them go, we regret it for the rest of our lives.

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Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.

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If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.

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If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.

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Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting.

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No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.

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I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once.

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It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.

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I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?

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I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.

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