The one of the great sadnesses of any life is knowing what you know now and then remembering what you did not know then.
We are expanded by tears, we are told, not reduced by them.
The first sentence of every novel should be: Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human.
The past is still, for us, a place that is not safely settled.
all this Beethoven and rain
A love story is not about those who lost their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing—not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.