We’d hoped for love of a different kind, love that knew and forgave our human frailty but did not miniaturize our grander ideas of ourselves.
Michael CunninghamOh, all you immigrants and visionaries, what do you hope to find here, who do you hope to become?
Michael CunninghamHe wanted to tell her that he was inspired and vigilant and recklessly alone, that his body contained his unsteady heart and something else, something he felt but could not describe: porous and spiky, shifting with flecks of thought, with urge and memory; salted with brightness, flickerings of white and green and pale gold; something that loved stars because it was made of the same substance.
Michael CunninghamYou want to give him the book of his own life, the book that will locate him, parent him, arm him for the changes.
Michael Cunningham