All my love gone for nothing. Days of my love, years of my love.

I thought it was the end of my life.

Time was a thief, he stole your life away from you and the only way you could get it back was to outwit him and snatch it right back.

Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

My life has been a total waste.

All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence.

I was assailed by memories of a life that wasn't mine anymore, but one in which I'd found the simplest and most lasting joys.

I was worn out, broken: He had taken almost everything. But he'd been all I'd had, all this time. And when the police led him away, I pulled out of the hands of all these loved one, sobbing, screaming, everything hurting, to try and make him stay.

I suddenly saw how sad and artificial my life had been during this period, for the loves, friends, habits and pleasures of these years were discarded like badly fitting clothes. I parted from them without pain and all that remained was to wonder that I could have endured them so long.

Life and death have been lacking in my life.

And occasionally I became very sad over that happiness, because I was well aware it couldn’t last. I wasn’t meant to exist in the lap of plenty and ease; I needed torment and persecution. I felt that some day I would awaken from those beautiful images of love and once be alone, in the cold world of the others, where there was only solitude or struggle for me, not peace or participation.

She had waited all her life for something, and it had killed her when it found her.

Sometimes life, will get you down, break your heart, steal your crown.

At dawn they came and took you away. You were my dead: I walked behind. In the dark room children cried, the holy candle gasped for air.