Childhood is a long, long road, from which that dark whispering forest of death seems an impossible destination.

I can almost see what Gabriel meant when he asked, 'What has the free world got that you can’t get here?' Almost. Freedom, Gabriel. That’s what you can’t get here.

The madness of youth made me unafraid.

It isn’t a perfect place. There are no perfect places. But nobody cares about perfection when there are sand castles to build and kites to chase, children that are being born, old hearts that are giving in.

Perhaps... you love too fiercely.

What have you done? What have you given up?' So many things, Cecily. More than you know.

We are stronger than we've credited ourselves to be. We have been the victims and the witnesses. We have said a lifetime of good-byes.