In exchange for his first taste of powdered milk, Pascal showed me a tree we could climb to find a bird's nest. After we handled and examined the pink-skinned baby birds, he popped one of them into his mouth like a jujube. It seemed to please him a lot. He offered a baby bird to me, pantomiming that I should eat it. I understood perfectly well what he meant, but I refused. He did not seem disappointed to have to eat the whole brood himself.

The most important part of a story is the piece of it you don't know.

The friend who holds your hand and says the wrong thing is made of dearer stuff than the one who stays away.

Listen. Slide the weight from your shoulders and move forward. You are afraid you might forget, but you never will. You will forgive and remember.

The truth needs so little rehearsal.

The gods you do not pay are the ones that can curse you best.

There is something in us that loves certain disasters and the fever of this moment and surrendering to that.