I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.

I don't see novels ending with any real sense of closure.

This last night we tear into each other, as if to wound, as if to find the key to everything before morning.

That's one of the great sadnesses of any life - knowing what you know now and then remembering what you did not know then.

There is a story, always ahead of you. Barely existing. Only gradually do you attach yourself to it and feed it. You discover the carapace that will contain and test your character. You will find in this way the path of your life.

…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.

All I desired was to walk upon such an earth that had no maps.