“That time I thought I was in loveand calmly said sowas not much different from the timeI was truly in loveand slept poorly and spoke out loudto the walland discovered the hidden geniusof my handsAnd the times I felt less in love,less than someone,were, to be honest, not so differenteither.Each was ridiculous in its own wayand each was tender, yes,sometimes even the false is tender.I am astonishedby the various kisses we’re capable of.Each from different heightsdiminished, which is simply the law.And the big bruisefrom the long fall looked perfectly whitein a few years.That astounded me most of all.”

“I am so tired of the girl in the infirmary, I am so sick of the girl who cries wolf all the time - even though not one of those cries was ever a false alarm. Not one of my pleas was ever less than truly urgent because when it's all in your mind, there always IS a wolf.”

“Truly, nothing in the world has so occupied my thoughts as this I, this riddle, the fact I am alive, that I am separated and isolated from all others, that I am Siddhartha! And about nothing in the world do I know less about than me, about Siddhartha!”

“If I had been a different sort of person, maybe less impressionable, less intense, less fearful, less utterly dependent upon the perceptions of others - maybe then I would not have bought the cultural party line that thinness is the be-all and end-all of goals. Maybe if my family had not been in utter chaos most of the time, maybe if my parents were a little better at dealing with their own lives maybe if I'd gotten help sooner, or if I'd gotten different help, maybe if I didn't so fiercely cherish my secret, or if I were not such a good liar, or were not quite so empty inside... maybe.”

“I didn’t realize it at the time. I really didn’t even think about it, until you. I couldn’t figure out why you were so different to me. .I know now that it’s not right… But it was something. It made me feel less…lonely.”

“what time is it?its is by every stara different time,and each most falsely true ...”