It was the sibling thing, I suppose. I was fascinated by the intricate tangle of love and duty and resentment that tied them together. The glances they exchanged; the complicated balance of power established over decades; the games I would never play with rules I would never fully understand. And perhaps that was key: they were such a natural group that they made me feel remarkably singular by comparison. To watch them together was to know strongly, painfully, all that I'd been missing.

The stretch of years leaves none unmarked: the blissful sense of youthful invincibility peels away and responsibility brings its weight to bear.

We're all unique, just never in the ways we imagine.

She was the breeze on a summer's day, the first drops of rain when the earth was parched, light from the evening star.

Happiness in life is not a given, it must be seized.

It's a terrible thing, isn't it, the way we throw people away?

. . . companions were to be valued, wherever one found them.