A man says something. Sometimes it turns out to be the truth, but this has nothing to do with the man who says it.

In everyone's life there are people who stay and people who go and people who are taken against their will.

Trees are as close to immortality as the rest of us ever come.

When I run the world, librarians will be exempt from tragedy. Even their smaller sorrows will last only for as long as you can take out a book.

The happening and telling are very different things. This doesn’t mean that the story isn’t true, only that I honestly don’t know anymore if I really remember it or only remember how to tell it. Language does this to our memories, simplifies, solidifies, codifies, mummifies. An off-told story is like a photograph in a family album. Eventually it replaces the moment it was meant to capture.

You know, I don't think there's anything truly unforgivable. Not where there's love.

Just ask yourself, if we weren't taught to be women, what would we be? (Ask yourself this question even if you're a man, and don't cheat by changing the words.)