What would you do if I died? If you died I would want to die too. So you could be with me? Yes. So I could be with you. Okay.

The man smiled at him a sly smile. As if they knew a secret between them, these two. Something of age and youth and their claims and the justice of those claims. And of their claims upon them. The world past, the world to come. Their common transciencies. Above all a knowing deep in the bone that beauty and loss are one.

She said that these were things all women knew yet seldom spoke of. Lastly she said that if women were drawn to rash men it was only that in their secret hearts they knew that a man who would not kill for them was of no use at all.

Suppose you were the last one left? Suppose you did that to yourself?

Our enemies ... seem always with us. The greater our hatred the more persistent the memory of them so that a truly terrible enemy becomes deathless. So that the man who has done you great injury or injustice makes himself a guest in your house forever. Perhaps only forgiveness can dislodge him.

The core of literature is the idea of tragedy... You don't really learn much from the good things that happen to you.

The voice of the Almighty speaks most profoundly in such things as lives in silence themselves.