How inevitable it is; we step into an ordinary moment and never come out again.
There are no days more full than those we go back to.
It struck me that distant cities are designed precisely so you can know where you came from.
One look at each other and it was immediately understood that they both needed a clean slate,,, The obliteration of memory.
The repeated lies become history, but they don't necessarily become the truth.
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.