It is true that I do not speak as well as I can think. But that is true of most people, as nearly as I can tell.

The death of something living is the price of our own survival, and we pay it again and again. We have no choice. It is the one solemn promise every life on earth is born and bound to keep.

Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I've only found sorrow.

How pointless life could be, what a foolish business of inventing things to love, just so you could dread losing them.

Vengeance does not subtract any numbers from the equation of murder; it only adds them.

Value is not made of money, but a tender balance of expectation and longing.

Poor Congo, barefoot bride of men who took her jewels and promised the Kingdom.