To live in prison is to live without mirrors. To live without mirrors is to live without the self.

It's only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you're telling it, to yourself or to someone else.

But most hearts say, I want, I want, I want, I want. My heart is more duplicitous, though no twin as I once thought. It says, I want, I don't want, I want, and then a pause. It forces me to listen.

Every night when I go to bed I think, In the morning I will wake up in my own house and things will be back the way they were. It hasn’t happened this morning, either.

You refuse to own yourself, you permit others to do it for you

And yes, I know it's you; and that is what we will come to, sooner or later, when it's even darker than it is now, when the snow is colder, when it's darkest and coldest and candles are no longer any use to us and the visibility is zero: yes. It's still you. It's still you.

For the children with their greedy little mouths represent the future, which like time itself will devour all now alive.