There's hope left in these dusty chords. There's a song left in our rusty hearts. We are torn and frayed but love remains.

I don’t think it’s quite that simple. Some people never observe anything, Life just happens to them. They get by on little more than a kind of dumb persistence, and they resist with anger and resentment anything that might lift them out of that false serenity.

Guilt starts as a feeling of failure.

Memory never recaptures reality. Memory reconstructs. All reconstructions change the original, becoming external frames of reference that inevitably fall short.

Grief is the price of victory.

When strangers meet, great allowance should be made for differences of custom and training.

Try looking into that place where you dare not look! You'll find me there, staring out at you!