Around you move many seas. It is impossible not to drown a little.

The catalog of emotion that disappears when someone dies, and the degree to which we rely on a few people to record something of what life was to them, is almost too much to bear.

Perhaps all anxiety might derive from a fixation on moments - an inability to accept life as ongoing.

The more you talk about something, the less accurate it gets.

If you think something's happened quickly, you're looking at only a part of it.

Time punishes us by taking everything, but it also saves us - by taking everything

I don't write toward a genre, and I try not to make claim to a genre after a book is published. That said, The Guardians isn't poetry. It's prose.