Blogging to sleep.

“My old grandmother always used to say, Summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever.”

“Old pictures look really rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem happier than you are.”

“It’s a funny thing about coming home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. You’ll realize what’s changed is you.”

“I saw my earlier selves as different people, acquaintances I had outgrown. I wondered how I could ever have been some of them.”

“Language shows clearly that memory is not an instrument for exploring the past but its theater. It is the medium of past experience, as the ground is the medium in which dead cities lie interred. He who seeks to approach his own buried past must conduct himself like a man digging. This confers the tone and bearing of genuine reminiscences. He must not be afraid to return again and again to the same matter, to scatter it as one scatters earth, to turn it over as one turns over soil. For the matter itself is only a deposit, a stratum, which yields only to the most meticulous examination what constitutes the real treasure hidden within the earth: the images, severed from earlier associations, that stand—like precious fragments or torsos in a collector’ gallery—in the prosaic rooms of our later understanding.”

“I’ve always been interested in people, but I’ve never liked them.”

“Ancient lovers believed a kiss would literally unite their souls, because the spirit was said to be carried in one’s breath.”

Did the cat just give–

“I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know. Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing: when both have fallen in love but still haven’t said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.”

Me: I don’t have the energy for this