To others we are not ourselves but performers in their lives cast for a part we do not even know we are playing

To others we are not ourselves but performers in their lives cast for a part we do not even know we are playing.

"It is never good dwelling on good-byes," she said, "it is not the being together that it prolongs, it is the parting

Oh, youth is a wicked, cruel thing - eating miracles with its breakfast and not knowing they are not porridge.

To some people, the impossible is impossible. One fine day, they wake up in the morning knowing that they will never hold the moon in their hands, and with the certainty, perfect peace descends on them.

The only thing that matters is to have charm and expression. Then comes that horrible gnawing doubt of our own magnetism. Is it possible that, though we are not lovely, we are not irresistible either? That we will have to go through life belonging neither to the triumphantly beautiful nor to the triumphantly ugly?