Venture too far for love, she tells herself, and you renounce citizenship in the country you've made for yourself.

There is a beauty in the world, though it's harsher than we expect it to be.

There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more.

She'd never imagined it like this-when she thought of someone (a woman like herself)losing her mind, she'd imagined shrieks and wails, hallucinations; but at that moment it had seemed clear that there was another way, far quieter; a way that was numb and hopeless, flat, so much so that an emotion as strong as sorrow would have been a relief.

One always has a better book in one's mind than one can manage to get onto paper.

We always worry about the wrong things, don't we?

What does it mean to regret when you have no choice? It's what you can bear. And there it is... It was death. I chose life.