No one thinks much about their ability to breathe; they just do it. It's when a person can't breathe, that they suddenly realize they'd been doing something truly marvelous all along.

The past hadn't been erased just because a new future had been handed it.

I don't know very many people who can piece together eloquent prayers when their souls are wounded. Words don't come at those times, but tears do. I have always thought of my tears as prayers.

We are born knowing how to be just. And we die knowing we spent a lifetime pretending we didn't.

Dissecting a book was the same as making sense of life. You have to find a way to interpret life, or you'll go nuts.

We moved wordlessly from one room to another, from the room of the dead to the room where time lay in pages everywhere I looked.

You shouldn't imagine things that you haven't a shred of proof happened.