But which was the real me? Let me be perfectly honest: I was a man of many faces. (p.33) - Milan Kundera

To ensure that the self doesn't shrink, to see that it holds on to its volume, memories have to be watered like potted flowers, and the watering calls for regular contact with the witnesses of the past, that is to say, with friends.

جميعنا في جزء ما من أنفسنا نعيش وراء الزمن, ربما أننا لا نَعي عمرَنا إلا في لحظات استثنائية, وأننا معظم الوقت أشخاص بلا أعمار

"For what is love if one loves a woman without knowing her? Just a decision to love? Or even an imitation? The question concerns us all: If, from our childhood on, the examples of love were not there inviting us to copy them, would we know what "loving" means?"