Analysis destroys wholes. Some things, magic things, are meant to stay whole. If you look at their pieces, they go away.

The road is a strange place. Shuffling along, I looked up and you were there walking across the grass toward my truck on an August day. In retrospect, it seems inevitable - it could not have been any other way-- a case of what I call the high probability of the improbable

We have both lost ourselves and created something else, something that exists only as an interlacing of the two of us.

Complex things are easy to do. Simplicity's the real challenge.

When a woman makes the choice to marry, to have children; in one way her life begins but in another way it stops. You build a life of details. You become a mother, a wife and you stop and stay steady so that your children can move. And when they leave they take your life of details with them. And then you're expected move again only you don't remember what moves you because no-one has asked in so long. Not even yourself.

In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.

For we have come by different ways to this place... I can tell by the natural ease with which you wear fine clothes and the way your mouth moves when you speak with waiters in good restaurants. You have come the way of castles and cathedrals, of elegance and empire.