Too many heroes in my life. All gone.

The hardest thing was to give meaning to what appeared to have none.

She did not think it was true that women fell in love all at once, but rather, that they fell in love through repitition, just the way someone became brave.

What was the point of living through history if you didn't record it?

This is what happened when one left one's home - pieces of oneself scattered all over the world, no one place ever completely satisfied, always a nostalgia for the place left behind.

Why did someone fall in love with you because you are one thing and then want you to be something else?

Pictures could not be accessories to the story -- evidence -- they had to contain the story within the frame; the best picture contained a whole war within one frame.