The ritual of our daily lives permeate our very bodies.

Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.

Gone. The saddest word in the language. In any language.

The things you let go will someday teach you how to fly.

Bio sam toliko blizu tebe, da mi je hladno pored drugih.

Remembering. Forgetting. I'm not sure which is worse.

Why talk about something you can't do anything about?

Don't let's ask for the moon! We have the stars!

Whatever you have lost there are more of, just not yours.

Why love what you will lose?There is nothing else to love.

It is the death of hope that comes as the greatest relief

Þæs ofereode, þisses sƿa mæg.

As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.

Everything changed...even the things we didn't want to.

No mark survives this place: you too will yieldto unmemory.