The world unwraps itself to you, again and again as soon as you are ready to see it anew.

That was such a wonderful time, even in its strangeness and sadness-and life isn't the same now. It's wonderful, but it isn't the same.

There were people everywhere but no one was mine, and I was no one's.

If magic was present, it moved under the skin of the world, beneath the ability of human eyes to catch sight of it.

Everyone dies. It's a question of where and how, that's all.

I like classical music of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and I adore Bach above all.

When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims.