And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?

There are always two deaths, the real one and the one people know about.

Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.

The last time you were happy about nothing; the first time you were afraid about nothing. Which came first?

There is no doubt that running away on a fresh, blue morning can be exhilarating.

And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?

I watched her die many times. In my way, not in hers. In sunlight, in shadow, by moonlight, by candlelight. In the long afternoons when the house was empty. Only the sun was there to keep us company. We shut him out. And why not? Very soon she was as eager for what's called loving as I was - more lost and drowned afterwards.