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— Fyodor Dostoevsky"A special form of misery had begun to oppress him of late. There was nothing poignant, nothing acute about it; but there was a feeling of permanence, of eternity about it; it brought a foretaste of hopeless years of this cold leaden misery, a foretaste of an eternity "on a square yard of space."
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Being alone makes us stronger. That’s the honest truth. But it’s cold comfort, since even if I wanted company no one will come near me anymore.
— Roberto Bolano
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Mort was already aware that love made you feel hot and cold and cruel and weak, but he hadn't realized that it could make you stupid.
— Terry Pratchett
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