Besides being the world the kind of sadness that can not be expressed in tears. You can not explain it to anyone. Unable to take any shape, settles quietly in the bottom of the heart as snow during the windless night.

Наглед нищо няма да се е променило. Ала нещо в мен ще е изгоряло и изчезнало. Кръв е пролята. Нещо в мен вече го няма. Свело поглед, то си тръгва безмълвно. Ватата се отваря; вратата се затваря. Светлината угасва. Днес е последният ден за човека, който съм сега. Последният залез. Призори моето сегашно аз вече няма да го има. Някой друг ще обитава това тяло.

April and May were painful, lonely months for me because I couldn't talk to you. I never knew that spring could be so painful and lonely. Better to have three Februaries than a spring like this.

The real world—where I probably could never be happy, and never get anywhere.

No truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through to the end andlearn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning.

He sometimes wondered if she had become involved with him just so that she could cry in someone's arms. Maybe she can't cry alone, and that's why she needs me.