“‎When one by one our ties are torn,And friend from friend is snatched forlorn;When man is left alone to mourn,Oh! then how sweet it is to die!”

“Is there notA tongue in every star that talks with man,And wooes him to be wise? nor wooes in vain;This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.”

“The dead of midnight is the noon of thought.”

“For how much longer will we have the strength to tear ourselves away from everyday life and resist? How often will life give us the chance to play hooky? To thumb our noises at it? Or make our little honorarium on the side? When will we lose one another and in what way will the ties be stretched beyond repair? How much longer until we become too old?And I know we were all aware of this. I know what we're like.We're too shy to talk about it, but at that precise moment on our journey, we knew.”

“What I expect from my male friends is that they are polite and clean. What I expect from my female friends is unconditional love, the ability to finish my sentences for me when I am sobbing, a complete and total willingness to pour their hearts out to me, and the ability to tell me why the meat thermometer isn't supposed to touch the bone.”

“The feeling of connection is what we live for.”

“This false and artificial means enforces a state of ennui.”