No one could suspect the intricate mysteries of her heart.

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

After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?

That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.

He carried Paul inside and up the stairs. He gave him a drink of water and the orange chewable aspirin he like and sat with him on the bed, holding his hand...This was what he yearned to capture on film: these rare moments where the world seemed unified, coherent, everything contained in a single fleeting image. A spareness that held beauty and hope and motion - a kind of silvery poetry, just as the body was poetry in blood and flesh and bone.

The city of Pittsburgh gleaming suddenly before her . . . so startling in its vastness and its beauty that she had gasped and slowed, afraid of losing control of the car

You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.