•	"Like everything perfect, he set up a ferocious pain inside me -- a flickering, gripping sort of pain, because nothing as marvelous as that is ever within reach, is it? Nothing as beautiful can ever last.

this is our tragedy, she said in his words, our fictions are killing us, but if we didn’t have those fictions, maybe that would kill us too.

Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.

My capacity for happiness," he added, "you could fit into a matchbox without taking out the matches first

Written By Douglas Adams

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