“Let me see no more of my harsh fate: this useless struggle.”

“I made no more protests. What was the use of struggling against fate”

“I struggle in these situations not to let my madness govern me, and to let the positive aspects of my character define my life.”

“But seeing her still made my heart beat crazily, made me long to pull her close and let that light consume me. If it burned until there was nothing left, would that be such a terrible fate?”

“Fate was playing my hand for me and for once in my life I knew better than not to go ahead and let it.”

“And I would have answered:"The knottier the branch, the more twisted and misshapen, the more bent people called it, the harder it is to find it a place among the smooth planks, the more people agree that it should be thrown on the fire, the more useless it is, the more unsuitable for anything except letting one's imagination run riot, the more I covet it, the more I yearn to weigh it in my hand, the more I long to let my whittling knife be guided by its knots and veins...Yes, bring that piece to me...”