How inevitable it is; we step into an ordinary moment and never come out again.

You can count the dead, but you can't count the cost. We've got no math for Heaven.

She's always thought that one of the beauties of New York is that you can be from anywhere and within moments of landing its yours.

She likes the people with the endurance to tolerate the drudge, the ones who know that pain is a requirement, not a curse.

One small cloud, cast out by the herd, limps away to the west.

She was tired of everyone wanting to go to heaven, nobody wanting to die. The only thing worth grieving over, she said, was that sometimes there was more beauty in this life than the world could bear.

The real beauty in life is that beauty can sometimes occur.