I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.

The only thing more painful than being an active forgetter is to be an inert rememberer.

What do babies dream of? She must be dreaming of the before-life, just as I dream of the afterlife.

Since the world has changed so much, the same values don't lead to the same choices anymore.

It can be challenge enough to have to eat with myself.

There's nothing wrong with not understanding yourself.

Succotash my cocker spaniel, you fudging crevasse-hole dipshiitake!