Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.

Norah looked at her son’s tiny face, surprised, as always, by his name. he had not grown into it yet, he still wore it like a wrist band, something that might easily slip off and disappear. She had read about people – where? she could not remember this either – who refused to name their children for several weeks, feeling them to be not yet of the earth, suspended still between two worlds.

I love to swim, and I love being near water.

Its impossible to control the reception of your work - the only thing you can control is the experience of writing itself, and the work you create.

Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.

But she had felt since childhod that her life would n ot be ordinary. A moment would come- she would know it when she saw it- and everything would change.

Music is like you touch the pulse of the world. Music is always happening, and sometimes you get to touch it for a while, and when you do you know that everything's connetcted to everything else.