I think living with the absence of someone we love is like living in front of a mountain from which a person - a speck in the distance, on some distance ridge - is perpetually waving.

Love between strangers takes only a few seconds and can last a whole life.

Every moment is the paradox of now or never.

I suppose the key to a good life is to gently overlook the truth and hope that at any moment we can all be reborn.

Language is like drinking from one's own reflection in still water. We only take from it what we are at the time.

Anyone who is desperate or alone will agree there is comfort in routine.

I tried to convey to the boy how people's lives are often altered by curved lines read slowly from paper, sand, or stone.