one of the best and the most painful things about time traveling has been the opportunity to see my mother alive.

What are you doing?" Nothing. Breaking and entering. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

I have a sort of Christmas-morning sense of the library as a big box full of beautiful books.

The hardest lesson is Clare’s solitude. Sometimes I come home and Clare seems kind of irritated; I’ve interrupted some train of thought, broken into the dreary silence of her day. Sometimes I see an expression on Clare’s face that is like a closed door. She has gone inside the room of her mind and is sitting there knitting or something. I’ve discovered that Clare likes to be alone. But when I return from time traveling she is always relieved to see me.

Why is love intensified by absence?

Do you ever miss him? Every day. Every minute. Every minute, she says. Yes, it's that way, isn't it?

Mama said, "Dreams are different to real life but important too."