The stories don't fit back together, and it's the end of stories, those devices we carry like shells and shields and blinkers and occasionally maps and compasses. The people close to you become mirrors and journals in which you record your history, the instruments that help you know yourself and remember yourself, and you do the same for them. When they vanish so does the use, the appreciation, the understanding of those small anecdotes, catchphrases, jokes: they become a book slammed shut or burnt... The stories shatter. Or you wear them out or leave them behind. Over time the memory loses power. Over time you become someone else.

The only thing of importance, when we depart, will be the traces of love we have left behind.

Your actions are your only belongings.

Stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories.

"When you die, there is nothing — only a life that will be forgotten."

-from "Gathering Ashes"

You get old and you realize there are no answers, just stories.

The things you own end up owning you. It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything.

Soon you will lose everything you hold most dear.

You'll forget it when you're dead, and so will I. When I'm dead, I'm going to forget everything–and I advise you to do the same.

When you understand, that what you're telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can just crumble up and throw your past in the trashcan, then we'll figure out who you're going to be.

Because the only thing that stays with you from the moment you’re born until the moment you die is your breath. All your friends, your family, the country you live in, all of that can change. The one thing that stays with you is your breath.

When we die we are only stories in the minds of others, I thought

Each moment presented may be your last, so fill it up until you vomit

The only past which endures lies wordlessly within you.