The air and the sky seem to have been freshly washed and polished, and the people too.

Words can bruise and break hearts, and minds as well. There are no black and blue marks, no broken bones to put in plaster casts, and therefore no prison bars for the offender.

I was raised almost entirely on turnips and potatoes, but I think that the turnips had more to do with the effect than the potatoes.

Chanel was a workaholic. She must have had a lot to forget.

What remains is solitude.

...it gives you the impression that every day is Sunday.

Being in the depths of sadness is just as important an experience as being exuberantly happy.