Complaints about reality are immature.

There are no beginnings, not even to stories. There are only places where you make an entrance into someone else's life and either stay or turn and go away.

People can only be found in what they do.

Nothing so completely verifies our perception of a thing as our killing of it.

Elizabeth Hay has intelligence coming out of her fingertips - integrity, insight, and wonder in every paragraph of her writing.She connects. She stirs and provokes.

I doubt we will ever be forgiven. All I hope is – they'll remember we were human beings

All of this happened a long time ago. But not so long ago that everyone who played a part in it is dead. Some can still be met in dark old rooms with nurses in attendance.