In the end I didn't know who I was crying for, but it was something my body wanted to do, as though trying to digest grief.

The present grows within the boundaries of the past.

Royal Young's writing is that rare blend of irony and beauty.

Sometimes, language is the sound of longing

I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment - we are all defined by something we can’t change.

Coincidences mean you're on the right path.

I think music is what language once aspired to be. Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life.