He'd kept this silence because his own secrets were darker, more hidden, and because he believed that his secrets had created hers.

This is what he knew that Paul didn't: the world was precarious and sometimes cruel. He'd had to fight hard to achieve what Paul simply took for granted.

Photography is all about secrets... The secrets we all have and will never tell.

She had died at age twelve, and by now she was nothing but the memory of love-- nothing, now, but bones.

A fear Paul had transformed all these years, like a gifted alchemist, into anger and rebellion.

Either things grow and change or they die.

The place was a familiar as breath but as far from his life now as the moon.