I liked his voice, rich and unself-conscious even when he forgot words and hummed to fill in the gap. What I didn't understand, I imagined, and thus it became a love song.

Tomorrow is another day. I've got plenty of things to worry about right now.

Or is this how humans survive, shrugging off history, immersing themselves in the moment?

Can't you ever be serious?' I said, mortified. 'It's difficult,' he said. 'There's so little in life that's worth it.

A dream is a telegram from the hidden world...Only a fool or an illiterate person ignores it.

Monday is the day of silence, day of the whole white mung bean, which is sacred to the moon.

I guess there's a lot we hope for that never happens.