You don't want to write your own opinion, you don't want to just represent yourself, but represent yourself through someone else.

He was a man who wrote, who interpreted the world. Wisdom grew out of being handed just the smallest sliver of emotion. A glance could lead to paragraphs of theory.

all this Beethoven and rain

She had grown older. And he loved her more now than he had loved her when he understood her better, when she was the product of her parents. What she was now was what she herself had decided to become.

So we came to understand that small and important thing, that our lives could be large with interesting strangers who would pass us without any personal involvement.

The trouble with all of us is we are where we shouldn't be.

From this point on, she whispered, we will either find or lose our souls.