Living alone,' November whispered, 'is a skill, like running long distance or programming old computers. You have to know parameters, protocols. You have to learn them so well that they become like a language: to have music always so that the silence doesn't overwhelm you, to perform your work exquisitely well so that your time is filled. You have to allow yourself to open up until you are the exact size of the place you live, no more or else you get restless. No less, or else you drown. There are rules; there are ways of being and not being.

A library is never complete. That’s the joy of it. We are always seeking one more book to add to our collection.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

I think that one morning, the Papess woke in her tower, and her blankets were so warm, and the sun was so golden, she could not bear it. I think she woke, and dressed, and washed her face in cold water, and rubbed her shaven head. I think she walked among her sisters, and for the first time saw that they were so beautiful, and she loved them. I think she woke up one morning of all her mornings, and found that her heart was as white as a silkworm, and the sun was clear as glass on her brow, and she believed then that she could live, and hold peace in her hand like a pearl.

Why should he be spared?' 'Someone ought to be.' And it will not be me. I have survived, but I have not been spared.

He tried to reconstruct the story in his mind, but it kept getting confused, bleeding into itself like watercolors.

I wish you the best that can be hoped for, and no worse than can be expected.