Language is like looking at a map of somewhere. Love is living there and surviving on the land.

I wonder if things can happen too early or too late or if everything happens at exactly the right time. If so, how sad and beautiful.

Children are the closest we have to wisdom and they become adults the moment that final drop of everything mysterious is strained from them.

I want to do things for people they will never forget. Maybe that’s the best thing I can do in life.

The present grows within the boundaries of the past.

When somebody leaves this plane—or, if you like, goes into another room—those left behind sometimes try and stop loving—but this is a mistake, because even if you have loved only once in your life, you’re ruined.

For some people, life is the process of knocking through walls to get out. For others, it is the building of walls.