... a country encapsulates our childhood and those lanes, byres, fields, flowers, insects, suns, moons and stars are forever reoccurring.

I did not sleep. I never do when I am over-happy, over-unhappy, or in bed with a strange man.

never forget this moment, the hum of the bee, the saffron threads of the flower, the drawn blinds, nature's assiduousness and human cruelty.

I knew I had done something awful. I had killed love, before I even knew the enormity of what love meant.

I crossed the room, and what you did was to feel my hair over and over again and in different ways, touch it, with the palm of your hand... felt it, strands of hair, with your fingers, touched it as if it were cloth, the way a child touches its favorite surfaces.

We hide the truer part of ourselves when we love.

Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment.