A story only matters, I suspect, to the extent that the people in the story change.

Stories are like spiders, with all they long legs, and stories are like spiderwebs, which man gets himself all tangled up in but which look pretty when you see them under a leaf in the morning dew, and in the elegant way that they connect to one another, each to each.

You're always you, and that don't change, and you're always changing, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Charitably...I think...Sometimes perhaps one must change or die. And in the end, there were perhaps limits to how much he could let himself change.

I think maybe Hell is a place. But you don't have to stay anywhere forever.

Omnia Mutantur, Nihil Interit. 'Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.