Good writing is the hardest form of thinking. It involves the agony of turning profoundly difficult thoughts into lucid form, then forcing them into the tight-fitting uniform of language, making them visible and clear. If the writing is good, then the result seems effortless and inevitable. But when you want to say something life-changing or ineffable in a single sentence, you face both the limitations of the sentence itself and the extent of your own talent.

I was trying to unravel the complicated trigonometry of the radical thought that silence could make up the greatest lie ever told.

Music could ache and hurt, that beautiful music was a place a suffering man could hide.

I’ve never had anyone’s approval, so I’ve learned to live without it.

(You) don't leave the chicken to watch the feed.

Families without songs are unhappy families.

The water was pure and cold and came out of the Apennines tasting like snow melted in the hands of a pretty girl.