The compelling thing about making art - or making anything, I suppose - is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances.

I look at him, look at the book, remember, this book, this moment, the first book I ever loved

My reflection in the mirror shows me pink and puffy. I thought pregnant women were to supposed to glow. I am not glowing.

I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going. - Henry deTamble

...all of our laments could not add a single second to her life, not one additional beat of the heart, nor a breath.

Now I wonder if it means that the future is a place, or like a place, that I could go to; that is go to in some way other than just getting older.

Is it sad to fancy David Tennant when you're dead?