I may not know how to fly but I know how to read, and that's almost the same thing.

The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say.

...No opening sermons concerning children with humps and fins for limbs, who nonetheless, immortal souls all, deserve life, liberty, and the pursuit of Happy Meals.

They moved together, blue diamonds on a green field.

Maybe that's what growing up means, in the end - you go far enough in the direction of - somewhere - and you realise that you've neutered the capacity of the term home to mean anything. [...] We don't get an endless number of orbits away from the place where meaning first arises, that treasure-house of first experiences. What we learn, instead, is that our adventures secure us in our isolation. Experience revokes our licence to return to simpler times. Sooner or later, there's no place remotely like home.

Perhaps family itself, like beauty, is temporary, and no discredit need attach to impermanence.

Because no retreat from the world can mask what is in your face.