I wanted to be a writer, that's all. I wanted to write about it all. Everything that happens in a moment. The way the flowers look when you carry them in your arms. This towel - how it smells, how it feels...it's thread. All our feelings - yours and mine. The history of it. Who we once were. Everything in the world. Everything mixed up. Like it's all mixed up now. And I failed. I failed. No matter what you start up with, it always ends up being so much less.
- The hours.