Empty teacups gathered around her and dictionary pages fell at her feet.

That's what I do. Watch movies and read. Sometimes I even pretend to write, but I'm not fooling anyone. Oh, and I go to the mailbox.

The idea that we've outgrown ends up limiting us and we have to make a choice about what we're going to do in our lives.

He wondered if what he had taken for the richness of silence was really the poverty of never being heard [...]. How could he have forgotten what he had always known: there is no match for the silence of God.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It took seven languages to make me; it would be nice if I could have spoken just one.

I've reached the age where bruises are formed from failures within rather than accidents without.

The price we paid for the volumes of ourselves that we suffocated in the dark.