The very concept of solid ground is a myth. The galaxy itself is adrift.

The wonder to me is not that she made it through at all but that she made it through so relatively intact, so vibrant. So free of bitterness and so empty of resentment.

Everything comes to nothing in the end, I suppose. Or at least, nothing happens exactly the way we imagine it.

And I come to realise that all my small todays, the way I act, will lead into my tomorrows.

If time stood still, and we could choose the time, the best time, then love without pain would be all I know.

Drought brings out the worst in us and it's easy to hate your fellow human beings.

The very concept of solid ground is a myth. The galaxy itself is adrift.