I Can't Pretend To Know What Love

In Small Letters, Someone Has Written Never Forget On One Of The Slats. I Know It's Supposed To Be A Pledge, But It Feels Like A Curse. Don't We Have To Forget Some Of It? Don't We Have To Forget This Feeling? If We Don't, How Will We Live?

We All Contain Mysteries, Especially When Seen From The Inside.

People Say That Time Slips Through Our Fingers Like Sand. What They Don't Acknowledge Is That Some Of The Sand Sticks To The Skin. These Are Memories That Will Remain, Memories Of The Time When There Was Still Time Left.

Let Me Hold On To This The Way It Was, Before I Knew Anything Else.

I Never Have People Tell Me Their Stories. I Usually Have To Figure Them Out Myself. Because I Know That If People Tell Me Stories, They Will Expect Them To Be Remembered. And I Cannot Guarantee That. There Is No Way To Know If The Stories Stay After I'm Gone. And How Devastating Would It Be To Confide In Someone And Have The Confidence Disappear? I Don't Want To Be Responsible For That.