No matter what, I want to continue living with the awareness that I will die. Without that, I am not alive.

I wonder what it felt to move to a country where you didn't grow up. I had thought about that often since my sister got married. Do you become a character in a story native to that land, or do you, somewhere in your heart, want to return to your homeland.

Ultimately, though, it's living people that frighten me the most. It's always seemed to me that nothing could be scarier than a person, because as dreadful places can be, they're still just places; and no matter how awful ghosts might seem, they're just dead people. I always thought that the most terrifying things anyone could ever think up were the things living people came up with.

Over and over, we begin again.

It didn't matter whether he was nearby or far away. His image would drift up into your mind just when you least expected it, shocking you, making your chest pound. Making your heart ache.

I felt how important the simplest things were, like feeling proud, finding something funny, stretching yourself, retreating into yourself.

Truly great people emit a light that warms the hearts of those around them. When that light has been put out, a heavy shadow of despair descends.