“[...] I thought, it's a shame that we have to live, but it's a tragedy that we get to live only one life [...]”

“It's a shame that we have to live, but it's a tragedy that we get to live only one life.”

“I thought, it's a shame that we have to live, but it's a tragedy that we get to live only one life, because if I'd had two lives, I would have spent one of them with her.”

“In the end I was the clay and she was the sculptor, I thought, it's a shame that we have to live, but it's a tragedy that we get to live only one life, because if I'd had two lives, I would have spent one of them with her.”

“[...] he felt that he too was only a baby, with the chance to live without shame, without the need for consolation for a life lived wrong, a chance to be again innocent, simply and impossibly happy.”

“I think after you live it's like before you lived.”

“There is no dead matter,” he taught us, “lifelessness is only a disguise” his voice sank pressed against the wall, “We have lived for too long. We wish. We wish; we want, we want we want We are not,” he said, “long-term beings. not heroes of romances in many volumes. for one gesture, for one word alone, we shall make the effort. We openly admit: our creations will be temporary.”