Your life feels different on you, once you greet death and understand your heart's position. You wear your life like a garment from the mission bundle sale ever after - lightly because you realize you never paid nothing for it, cherishing because you know you won't ever come by such a bargain again.

Old love, middle love, the kind of love that knows itself and knows that nothing lasts, is a desperate shared wildness.

Women are strong, strong, terribly strong. We don't know how strong until we're pushing out our babies.

I was in love with the whole world and all that lived in its rainy arms.

Time was rushing around me like water around a big wet rock. The only difference is, I was not so durable as stones. Very quickly I would be smoothed away.

...Grandpa's mind had left us, gone wild and wary. When I walked with him I could feel how strange it was. His thoughts swam between us, hidden under rocks, disappearing in weeds, and I was fishing for them, dangling my own words like baits and lures.

Things which do not grow and change are dead things.