He didn't know of course. Not really. And yet that was what he said, and I was soothed to hear it. For I knew what he meant. We all have our sorrows, and although the exact delineaments, weight, and dimensions of grief are different for everyone, the color of grief is common to us all. "I know," he said, because he was human, and therefore, in a way, he did.

But she had that laugh, and the sound of it was so beautiful that when you heard it, it was as if your eyes saw her through your ears and she was transformed.

opening the book, i inhaled. the smell of old books, so sharp, so dry you can taste it.

I've nothing against people who love truth. Apart from the fact that they make dull companions.

There was no single moment when I thought, Aha! What a great idea! Rather there was a slow and gradual accumulation of numerous small ideas.

Sometimes when you open the door to the past, what you confront is your destiny.

One gets so used to one's own horrors, one forgets how they must seem to other people.