I discovered that my imagination came alive when I moved away from the immediate world around me.

What is pertinent is the calmness of beauty, its sense of restraint. It is as though the land knows of its own beauty, its own greatness, and feels no need to shout it.

You say you’re sure? Sure that you’re in love? How can you know it? You think love is so simple?

I can't even say I made my own mistakes. Really - one has to ask oneself - what dignity is there in that?

After all, what can we ever gain in forever looking back and blaming ourselves if our lives have not turned out quite as we might have wished?

All children have to be deceived if they are to grow up without trauma.

Because maybe, in a way, we didn't leave it behind nearly as much as we might once have thought. Because somewhere underneath, a part of us stayed like that: fearful of the world around us, and no matter how much we despised ourselves for it--unable quite to let each other go.