What irritates me most about him is his natural goodness, his inborn selflessness.

That dot covers all the places we've ever been. You could cut that piece of land out of the ground and sing it into this ocean and no one would even notice. I feel that fear again, the fear of my own size. 'Right. So?' 'So? So everything I've ever worried about or said or done, how can it possibly matter?' He shakes his head. 'It doesn't.' 'Of course it does,' I say, 'All that land is filled with people, every one of them different, and the things they do to each other matter.

Then everyone can call you Six.” “Four and Six,” I say.

But I think that no matter how smart, people usually see what they're already looking for, that's all.

You need to be passionate about the creative work that you're doing, but you need to be kind of emotionally separated from how people react to it or how it does. Those things should be secondary, and primary should be your love of the creative act.

What's worse: to be idle while someone dies, or to be exiled and empty-handed?

But Christina and I are not people who cry together; we're people who fight together. SO I hold my tears in.