Pain is very often a maimed creature without a mouth.

Reading is a rendezvous with your soul.

The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative, there are lit-up moments, and the rest is dark.

She said she’d often wondered why she wanted to do some things and not do other things at all. Well, it was obvious with some things, but for others, there was no reason there. She’d spent a long time puzzling it out, then she thought that what you’d done in a past life you didn’t need to do again, and what you had to do in the future, you wouldn’t be ready to do now.

London is a small place, and it is very incestuous. People know where you live. Everybody is sort of on top of each other.

The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love.

In the heat of her hands I thought, This is the campfire that mocks the sun. This place will warm me, feed me and care for me. I will hold on to this pulse against other rhythms. The world will come and go in the tide of a day but here is her hand with my future in its palm.