Reality's just the accumulation of ominous prophecies come to life. All you have to do is open a newspaper on any given day to weigh the good news versus the bad news, and you'll see what I mean.

“It made her think of Laika, the dog. The man-made satellite streaking soundless…”

“At any rate, that’s how I started running. Thirty three—that’s how old I was th…”

“Forse attorno al mio cuore c'è una specie di guscio duro e sono veramente poche…”

“Things that come out of nowhere go back to nowhere, that's all.”