“Sometimes, when you’re sad you don’t know what to do, it helps to be angry. But then the tears come back again all the same, and you fall asleep with the salty taste of them on your lips.”

“Sometimes, when you're so sad you don't know what to do, it helps to be angry.”

“He paused again as a tear of longing rolled from cheek to lip with the sweet-salty taste of an old memory.”

“I don’t know how you can stand it. Over and over again, the same sadness—”He lifted her up. “The same ecstasy—”“The same fire that kills everything—”“The same passion that ignites it all again. You don’t know. You can’t remember how wonderful—”“I’ve seen it. I do know.”

“You know what’s sad about reading books? It’s that you fall in love with the characters. They grow on you. And as you read, you start to feel what they feel - all of them - you become them. And when you’re done, you’re never the same. Sure you’re still you, you look the same, talk in the same manner, but something in you has changed. Something in the way you think, the way you choose, sometimes, even the things you say may differ. But it all comes down to the state you go to after a nice novel. The after-feeling. It’s amazing, but somehow, you feel left alone by that world you were once in. It’s overwhelming. But it makes you sad. Cause for once you were this, this otherworldly being in… Neverwhere, and then you suddenly have to say goodbye after a few weeks from when you read the last page. When you’ve recovered from that state it’s just… quite sad.”

“You know what it’s like when you’re trying to fall asleep and it only makes you more wide awake?”