I want to get to the end and feel that I've done all I could, given the limitations and given the opportunities.

This is not a love story, but love is in it. That is, love is just outside it, looking for a way to break in.

What should I do about the wild and the tame? The wild heart that wants to be free, and the tame heart that wants to come home.

Do you wake up as I do, having forgotten what it is that hurts or where, until you move? There is a second of consciousness that is clean again. A second that is you, without memory or experience, the animal warm and waking into a brand new world. There is the sun dissolving the dark, and light as clear as music, filling the room where you sleep and the other rooms behind your eyes.

You cannot disown what is yours. Flung out, there is always the return, the reckoning, the revenge, perhaps the reconciliation. There is always the return.

There is a certain seductiveness about dead things. You can ill treat, alter and recolour what's dead. It won’t complain.

What are you that makes me feel thus? Who are you for whom time has no meaning?