They thought depression was like bieng 'depressed'. They thought it was like being in a bad mood, only worse. Therefore, they tried to get him to snap out of it.

The essential matrimonial facts: that to be happy you have to find variety in repetition; that to go forward you have to come back to where you begin.

She understood that her heart operated on its own instructions, that she had no control over it or, indeed, anything else.

Added to their loveliness was a new mysterious suffering, perfectly silent, visible in the blue puffiness beneath their eyes or the way they would sometimes stop in mid-stride, look down, and shake their heads as though disagreeing with life.

She held herself very straight, like Audrey Hepburn, whom all women idolize and men never think about.

One of the reasons that art is important to me is sometimes it actually feels more coherent than life. It orders the chaos.

Everyone struggles against despair, but it always wins in the end. It has to. It's the thing that lets us say goodbye.