And death? I don't fear death. I dread the absence of it.

Children wear their natures like brightly-colored clothes; that's why they lie so transparently. Adulthood is the art of deceit.

We're all born strangers to ourselves and each other, and we're seldom formally introduced.

It was possible at last to hear the silence to appreciate that there was a silence, deep and potent, out there beyond the pretension of the light.

Is there any evidence to the contrary? I don't need certainty in order to act on a well-founded suspicion.

I understand so very little. But I am not afraid to look: I am a good observer at last. My eyes are open, and I am not afraid.

It was the kind of experience, Molly said, that would grow calluses on an angel's ass.