For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a "Reserved" sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant. Despite the fact that I was sure I'd never see her again.

What we needed were not words and promises but a steady accumulation of small realities.

Well, finally, the events I've been through have been tremendously complicated. All kinds of characters have come on the scene, and strange things have happened one after another, to the point where, if I try to think about them in order, I lose track.

My imagination is a kind of animal. So what I do is keep it alive.

When the fire goes out, you'll start feeling the cold. You'll wake up whether you want to or not.

What was lost was lost. There was no retrieving it, however you schemed, no returning to how things were, no going back.

What’s more, you’re loads better than you think you are.” “So why is it I get to thinking that way?” I puzzled. “That’s because you’re only half-living.” she said briskly. “The other half is still untapped somewhere.