Our life is a series of moments. Let them all go. Moments. All gathering towards this one.

The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows.

When clouds will become heavier than the land in us led our entire life by the steps of our Destiny, we will understand that not their moments’ rain has darkened the sun of our life, but the failure to be ourselves.

I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, I can't do anything to change events anyway.

I’m not sentimental about anything. Life flows by, and you flow with it or you don’t. Move on and move out.

I don't think you should die until you're ready. Until you've wrung out every last bit of living you can.