You cannot measure love by a scale of degrees.

A consciousness was like a face you saw once and forever recognized.

It was a hurting tune, resigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, Fire's fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind to say goodbye.

...when truths disappear, they leave behind blank spaces, and that is also dangerous.

Men are daft around women, incautious and boastful.

Everybody was strange. In a fit of frustration, she scratched out strange and wrote the word CRACKPOTS in big letters.

Why does everybody throw every troublesome thing into the river?