Well, the family always was bright, and brightness, as you know, decays brilliantly.

No one survives in times of war unless they make war their home. How did I get so old and wise, but for welcoming war into my house and making friends with him? Better to befriend the enemy and hang on. Something worse might come along, which might be amusing or might not.

...What is the use of beauty? i have lived my life surrounded by painters, and still I do not know the answer. But i suspect, some days, that beauty helps protect the spirit of mankind, swaddle it and succor it, so that we might survive. Beauty is no end in itself, but if it makes or lives less miserable so that we might be more kind-well, then, lets have beauty, painted on our porcelain, hanging on our walls, ringing through our stories.

Well, the family always was bright, and brightness, as you know, decays brilliantly.

The moon rose, an opalescent goddess tipping light from her harsh maternal scimitar.

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

I am a forgettable leaf on a tree.