When we press the thorn to our chest we know, we understand, and still we do it.
duty, the most indecent of all obsessions, was only another name for love.
The lovely thing about being forty is that you can appreciate twenty-five-year-old men more.
Twelve thousand miles of it, to the other side of the world. And whether they came home again or not, they would belong neither here, nor there, for they would have lived on two continents and sampled two different ways of life.
How frightening, that one person could mean so much, so many things.
There is no doubt that it is more difficult to read and more difficult to write but I still manage.