Memories are small prayers to God, if we believed in that sort of thing.

Everything else happened - why not the things that could have?

And yet and yet - the last secret of the tree of codes is that nothing can ever reach a definite conclusion. Nowhere as much as there do we feel possibilities shaken by the nearness of realization. The atmosphere becomes possibilities and we shall wander and make a thousand mistakes. We shall wander along yet not be able to understand.

She had fallen in love so many times that she began to suspect she was not falling in love at all, but doing something much more ordinary.

She let out a laugh, and then she put her hand over her mouth, like she was angry at herself for forgetting her sadness.

We've made science experiments of ourselves and our children.

If nothing matters, there's nothing to save.