“I think, How small my life seemed then. How little I wanted for myself. How little I expected of myself and those who claimed to love me.”

“I was thinking of Anna. I make myself think of her, I do it as an exercise. She is lodged in me like a knife and yet I am beginning to forget her. Already the image of her that I hold in my head is fraying, bits of pigments, flakes of gold leaf, are chipping off. Will the entire canvas be empty one day? I have come to realise how little I knew her, I mean how shallowly I knew her, how ineptly. I do not blame myself for this. Perhaps I should. Was I too lazy, too inattentive, too self-absorbed? Yes, all of those things, and yet I cannot think it is a matter of blame, this forgetting, this not-having-known. I fancy, rather, that I expected too much, in the way of knowing. I know so little of myself, how should I think to know another?”

“As a successful young man, I have developed myself to a level where physiological needs, safety and security needs, social needs and ego needs are no more challenge to me. I do not think about how to sleep with a girl on the street. I do not think about how to make the guy next door my friend. I do not think about how to be happy with my achievements. I know how to! The only thing I make a go at and keep on going strong for is actualizing myself; life fulfilling itself in me; Becoming who I want to be so that I can do someone a world of good as I really want to.”

“There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother... Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.”

“I lowered myself into an armchair. I was enveloped in a cloud of dust. All that remained of my life was in my lap. I sat for a time thus, as still as the mute objects that surrounded me. How little it all meant, in the end.”

“I want a love like me thinking of you thinking of me thinking of you type love, or me telling my friends more than I've ever admitted to myself about how I feel about you type love ”