“so it's always a process of letting go, one way or another”

“… Her heart remained empty once more, and the procession of days all alike began again. So they were going to follow one another, like this, in line, always identical, innumerable, bringing nothing!”

“That was the strange thing, that one did not know where one was going, or what one wanted, and followed blindly, suffering so much in secret, always unprepared and amazed and knowing nothing; but one thing led to another and by degrees something had formed itself out of nothing, and so one reached at last this calm, this quiet, this certainty, and it was this process that people called living.”

“It's one thing to carry your life wherever you go. Another thing to always go looking for it somewhere else.”

“...we're always acting, one way or another. It's just that for most of us, it's tiring. At the end of the day, we want to go home and relax with someone who doesn't need us to be anyone other than who we are.”

“But one day leads to another, and so on. No way around it. It's that merciless thing that time does.”