It made her pure, and those we love must be pure, otherwise we can't love them. But loving a person is also making her pure. (p. 189) - Stig Dagerman

A little remorse they felt too in front of those who knew nothing, but it made their memories all the sweeter, for remorse is the best spice of all. (p. 243)

Do you think I'm seventeen, he remembered she had said. Not very loudly, but she had said it, though she was not annoyed any more. It had sounded more as though she was sorry she was no longer seventeen. (p. 187)

I am still fairly convinced that as a theory it's true enough: to live, really only means to put off one's suicide from day to day. You have probably had some experience of this too; even if you are not able to put it into words, you must have been subconsciously aware of it. (p. 181)