And if there's a moral there, I don't know what it is, save maybe that we should take our goodbyes whenever we can.

Death’s a funny thing. I used to think it was a big, sudden thing, like a huge owl that would swoop down out of the night and carry you off. I don’t anymore. I think it’s a slow thing. Like a thief who comes to your house day after day, taking a little thing here and a little thing there, and one day you walk round your house and there’s nothing there to keep you, nothing to make you want to stay. And then you lie down and shut up forever. Lots of little deaths until the last big one.

Every lover is, in his heart, a madman, and, in his head, a minstrel.

I remembered that, and, remembering that, I remembered everything.

I think the short story is a very underrated art form. We know that novels deserve respect.

I don't think you should ever insult people unintentionally: if you're doing it, you ought to mean it.

So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams.