Clearly, Im drawn to characters with inner conflicts.

Pain obliterates everything else. In pain, there is only the eternal present.

Those that yield are not always weak

It's funny, how one can look back on a sorrow one thought one might well die of at the time, and know that one had not yet reckoned the tenth part of true grief.

It is a comfort, in anguish, to be reminded of the scale of one's own troubles against the mighty breadth of the world.

I would that I could have stopped time and preserved that day forever. It was a perfect day. There was the shadow of sorrow, yes. It would always be there. But that was the nature of life. The bright mirror and the dark, reflecting one another. And today there was so much brightness.

There are those who are awkward in the face of sorrow, fearing to say the wrong thing; to them, I say, there is no wrong in comfort, ever. A kind word, a consoling arm ... these things are ever welcome.