Time has taught me not to lose hope, yet not to trust too much in hope either.

Max had once read in one of his father's books that some childhood images become engraved in the mind like photographs, like scenes you can return to again and again and will always remember, no matter how much time goes by.

Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you, like trains that don’t stop at your station.

They had parted as boys, and now life presented one of them with a fugitive and the other with a dying man. Both wondered whether this was due to the cards they'd been dealt or to the way they had played them.