That’s the thing about stories. They never really end, do they? We’re still telling the same stories we’ve always told, just with different names, different faces…[to Neo]
Stories don’t end. They only go their separate ways. We take leave of them. Not knowing what comes after.
Most men, they’ll tell you a story straight through. It won’t be complicated, but it won’t be interesting, either.
All good stories deserve embellishment.
A story has a beginning and an end. And ours ended a few chapters ago.[to Patrizia]
A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him. And in that way he becomes immortal.
We know this story. This is how it all began. This is where he began.
There is no way to tell his story without telling my own. And if his story is really a confession, then so is mine.
The key to a great story is not who, or what, or when, but why.
If I ever write a story myself it will be to correct the millions misconceptions created by his imaginative license.
I’ve heard stories of Earth. A paradise. Until we destroyed it.
I want to see how this story goes.[to Maurizio]
