Nothing ever begins. There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any other story springs.

I've never worked where it was hard to be gay. Besides, being gay is a spectacular irrelevance to getting on with your life.

We each die countless little deaths on our way to the last. We die out of shame as humiliation. We perish from despair. And, of course, we die for love.

There must still be room for the falling note, of course. Even in an undying world there are times when beauty passes from sight, or love passes from the heart, and we feel the sorrow of partition.

Three is the number of those who do holy work; Two is the number of those who do lover's work; One is the number of those who do perfect evil Or perfect good.

Perhaps sunlight had always been luminous, and doorways signs of greater passage than that of one room to another. But she’d not noticed it until now.

No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.