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

Who but the mad would choose to keep on living? In the end, aren't we all just a little crazy?

I've never been in love. I will die without knowing what it feels like to need to see one person's face when you go to sleep at night, to crave seeing it when you wake up. I wish I knew.

What if evil doesn't really exist? What if evil is something dreamed up by man, and there is nothing to struggle against except out own limitations? The constant battle between our will, our desires, and our choices?

I run after her, not really giving chase. I’m running because I can, because I must.
Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.

But we can't go back. We can only go forward.