I learned you don't discover the evidence of any cause in its result.

Maybe, love is always forgiveness, to a degree.

We are linked by blood, and blood is memory without language.

Flying fosters fantasies of childhood, of omnipotence, rapid shifts of being, miraculous moments; it stirs our capacity for dreaming.

I tend to think in dramatic terms. In life, there may be an actual drama, but it would be the fictionalized, imagined drama that engaged me.

I think what distresses me most in my life is that I have so many ideas I consider exciting ideas that I will never live to execute because it takes me so long to execute.

For what are the words with which to summarize a lifetime, so much crowded confused happiness terminated by such stark slow-motion pain?