You’ll know her more by your questions than by her answers. Keep looking at her long enough. One day you might see someone you know.

Or maybe you’re merely uncomfortable with uncertainty. Like the rest of the human race.

As we approached each other, the noise and the students around us melted away and we were utterly alone, passing, smiling, holding each other's eyes, floors and walls gone, two people in a universe of space and stars.

This was the ghetto: where children grow down instead of up.

How much better might human communication be if words were as precious as diamonds? If each of us were allotted only 100 words per day?

She might be pointing to a doorway, or a person, or the sky. But such things were so common to my eyes, so undistinguished, that they would register as "nothing" I walked in a gray world of nothing.

Heart and head are contrary historians.