This is what happens when you fall in love. You're looking at a natural disaster.

Once you get below the floor of our personal identities, we're all connected. Perhaps that's why we can move into others' lives.

How vast was a human being's capacity for suffering. The only thing you could do was stand in awe of it. It wasn't a question of survival at all. It was the fullness of it, how much could you hold, how much could you care.

A novel is like a dream in which everyone is you. They’re all parts of yourself.

You were my home, Mother. I had no home but you

This was the life I was going to be living, everybody separated from everybody else, hanging on for a moment only to be washed away.

We have no home, she told me. I am your home.