What sticks to memory, often, are those odd little fragments that have no beginning and no end.

...you find yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, and you are filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is not.

I'm not dead. But when I am, it's likeI don't know, I guess it's like being inside a book that nobody's reading.

My life is storytelling. I believe in stories, in their incredible power to keep people alive, to keep the living alive, and the dead.

Storytelling is the essential human activity. The harder the situation, the more essential it is.

The world shrieks and sinks talons into our hearts. This we call memory.

It was very sad, he thought. The things men carried inside. The things men did or felt they had to do.