We stumble on, thinks Jaslyn, bring a little noise into the silence, find in others the ongoing of ourselves. It is almost enough.

He might have been naive, but he didn't care; he said he's rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic.

Things in life have no real beginning, though our stories about them always do.

Women get the short shrift in history. It's been largely written and dictated by men, or at least men believe that we own it, and women have really been in those quieter moments at the edge of history. But, really, they're the ones who are turning the cogs and the wheels and allowing things like the peace process to happen.

There's a part of me that thinks perhaps we go on existing in a place even after we've left it.

If they ask you to stand still, you should dance.

Increasingly I think of myself as some strange and solitary conductor, introduced to a group of very dynamic musicians who happen to be my characters, and I have no idea how they are going to play together, and I have certainly no idea how I am going to put manners on them.