The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough.

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

...it was necessary to love silence, but before you could love silence you had to have noise.

I'm of the opinion that the real is imagined and the imagined is quite real. The real is imagined, in the sense that we shape our stories, so anything that even happens on the news gets shaped in a certain way and gets a texture, and that the imagined can be real.

It was a silence that heard itself, awful and beautiful.

I have the most charmed, most - I feel entirely blessed and lucky that I have the life that I have.

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