I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.

Wanting him to come back before anyone notices part of the world has not moved since he left.

If you're talking to a child, you're going, 'This is the wonder of science and here's why I'm so fascinated by it.'

Wrapped around my son with only the knowledge of the words of the world & a quiet remembrance of watching before this all began.

If there is any secret to this life I live, this is it: the sound of what cannot be seen sings within everything that can & there is nothing more to it than that.

I am only strong enough for a life of partial virtue.

Time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life.