Everything move...you wonder how it all knows where to go. Einstein wondered how birds knew where to migrate to. He thought they might follow lines of light in the sky. He saw everything as lines of light. That's how he was built. So we don't know how he moved, either. Any more than the birds.

Everything goes, everything is lost, eventually. But if something is good, it doesn't matter what happens. The ending is still happy.

Everything, no matter how beautiful, is only with us for awhile.

This is what books only aimed to do and never could. Give you the glint of someone else's sunrise, what living is really like, you get old and it hurts to bend your elbow; your friends start to die, you can’t get fresh fruit in the shops.

Everything move...you wonder how it all knows where to go. Einstein wondered how birds knew where to migrate to. He thought they might follow lines of light in the sky. He saw everything as lines of light. That's how he was built. So we don't know how he moved, either. Any more than the birds.

Sex complicates, but it is the power of love to simplify.

In a sense who you are has always been a story that you told to yourself. Now your self is a story that you tell to others.