Are you happy here?" I said at last. He considered this for a moment. "Not particularly," he said. "But you're not very happy where you are, either.

Sometimes you can do all the right things and not succeed. And that's a hard lesson of reality.

All those layers of silence upon silence.

Still when I lost her, I lost sight of any landmark that might have led me someplace happier, to some more populated or congenial life.

Caring too much for objects can destroy you. Only—if you care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn’t it? And isn’t the whole point of things—beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty?

Storytelling and elegant style don't always go hand in hand.

Well, I do have some maiden aunts that are not quite like the aunts in the book, but I definitely do have a couple of them, and a couple of old aunties.