...For grace may only be found briefly, and always in the midst of madness.

Hats have power. Hats can change you into someone else.

A book is a door, you know. Always and forever. A book is a door into another place and another heart and another world.

You cannot escape where you come from, September. Some part of it remains inside you always, like the slender white heart in the center of the thickest onion.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories. A war story is a black space. On the one side is before and on the other side is after, and what is inside belongs only to the dead.

When little ones say they want to go home, they almost never mean it. They mean they are tired of this particular game and would like to start another.

And it's the wonders I'm after, even if I have to bleed for them.