Not that believing such things has anything to do with whether they are true. You see that, don't you?

A book can just be a description of a stick being snapped in half. If the reader is brought to feel the plight of the stick, well, you can imagine what that would be like.

I want to say less, and it's easier to say less.

The old man began to sing. His voice was very lovely and obviously a part of something that the world had disposed of in its haste, evidence of a grander, kinder past.

We tire differently if we love or love not.

I believe in discovering the love that exists and then trying to understand it. Not to invent a love and try to make it exist, but to find what does exist, and then to see what it is.

Different times and different structures make more sense at one point in life than at another.