It isn't just a village. The houses aren't just places to live. Everything belongs to everybody. Everyone belongs to everyone else. Even a single person can make a difference.

I'm incapable of hiding my feelings when I'm around someone I don't like.

Somehow the anticipation of pain can be even more troubling, more a misery than the pain itself.

We came in the wind of the carnival. A wind of change, or promises. The merry wind, the magical wind, making March hares of everyone, tumbling blossoms and coat-tails and hats; rushing towards summer in a frenzy of exuberance.

I liked her better for showing a little spirit.

Our lives are like these things I make. Turn 'em, build 'em, bake 'em in fire. That's what you've been, son. Baked and fired. But a pot don't have the right to choose whether he be for water, wine, or just left empty. You have, son. You have.

From a very young age my mother persuaded me that I could write for fun, but I had to have a proper job - very good advice.