The first sentence of every novel should be: Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human.

The joyful will stoop with sorrow, and when you have gone to the earth I will let my hair grow long for your sake, I will wander through the wilderness in the skin of a lion

…Even the idea of a city never entered his mind. It was as if he had walked under the millimeter of haze just above the inked fibers of a map, that pure zone between land and chart, between distances and legends, between nature and storyteller. The place they had chosen to come to, to be their best selves, to be unconscious of ancestry. Here, apart from the sun compass and the odometer mileage, and the book, he was alone, his own invention. He knew during these times how the mirage worked, the fata morgana, for he was within it.

Over the years, confusing fragments, lost corners of stories, have a clearer meaning when seen in a new light, a different place.

Fathers die.You keep on loving them in any way you can.You can't hide him away in your heart.

Love is so small it can tear itself through the eye of a needle

How can you smile as though your whole life hasn't capsized