Bokelskere.no

"Layer upon layer of solitude, like folds of soft mud. The little bit of light that manages to penetrate to the depths lights up the surroundings like the remnants of some faint, distant memory. At these depths there's no sign of life. I don't know how long she looks at me - not at me, maybe, but at the spot where I am. Time's rules don't apply here. Time expands, then contracts, all in tune with the stirrings of the heart."

"When I open them, most of the books have the smell of an earlier time leaking out from between their pages - a special odour of the knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between their covers."

Listen up - there's no war that will end all wars.

You are in love with a girl who is no more, jealous of a boy who’s gone for ever. Even so, this emotion you’re feeling is more real, and more intensely painful, than anything you’ve ever felt before. And there’s no way out. No possibility of finding an escape. You’ve wandered into a labyrinth of time, and the biggest problem of all is that you have no desire at all to get out. Am I right?

A deserted library in the morning - there’s something about it that really gets to me. All possible words and ideas are there, resting peacefully.

Closing your eyes isn’t going to change anything. Nothing’s going to disappear just because you can’t see what’s going on. In fact, things will be even worse the next time you open your eyes. (...) Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing your eyes and plugging up your ears won’t make time stand still.

Everyone of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads—at least that’s where I imagine it—there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in a while, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you’ll live forever in your own little private library.