Hands have their own language.

Love is also a violence, and cannot be undone.

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

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

Life just swallows you up, doesn't it?Just swallows you up with its everyday things

We touched with a softness that pushed through the skin into memory, like arms plunged into a river - we could feel the weight of each other's stones.

I think we keep these moments of rejection and acceptance very close. I think we carry them always, like cracked shells from which a part of us once hatched.