After every ''victory'' you have more enemies.

I dreamed I was a single moment in a single day. A note struck and vanished. A sounding. A reckoning. Gone.

She must find a boat and sail in it. No guarantee of shore. Only a conviction that what she wanted could exist, if she dared to find it.

Not much touches us, but we long to be touched. We lie awake at night willing the darkness to part and show us a vision.

Art can make a difference because it pulls people up short. It says, don't accept things for their face value; you don't have to go along with any of this; you can think for yourself.

The baby explodes into an unknown world that is only knowable through some kind of a story – of course that is how we all live, it’s the narrative of our lives, but adoption drops you into the story after it has started. It’s like reading a book with the first few pages missing. It’s like arriving after curtain up. The feeling that something is missing never, ever leaves you – and it can’t, and it shouldn’t, because something is missing.

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