The repeated lies become history, but they don't necessarily become the truth.

That was the sort of everyday love I had to learn to contend with: if you grow up with it, it's hard to think you'll ever match it. I used to think it was difficult for children of folks who really loved each other, hard to get out from under that skin because sometimes it's just so comfortable you don't want to have to develop your own.

He looks like the sort of man who can't afford to leave, and doesn't want to stay, and so he is doing both at once.

The luxury of age was the giving up of vanity.

The world does not turn without moments of grace. Who cares how small.

We have to listen to other people's stories. That's the thing. And that's the only way that we eventually get to know ourselves.

There are rocks deep enough in this earth that no matter what the rupture, they will never see the surface. There is, I think, a fear of love. There is a fear of love.