No shame in saying that I felt a loneliness drifting through me. Funny how it was, everyone perched in their own little world with the deep need to talk, each person with their own tale, beginning in some strange middle point, then trying so hard to tell it all, to have it all make sense, logical and final.

We shape ourselves by our imaginative reach.

Cynicism is easy. An optimist is a braver cynic.

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

I guess this is what marriage is, or was, or could be. You drop the mask. You allow the fatigue in. You lean across and kiss the years because they're the things that matter.

So much of her time spent like this: dreaming up things to say and never quite saying them.

Give life long enough and it will solve all your problems, including the one of being alive.