The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving.

I was not wounded in any part of my body, but I had never experienced such intense pain, such a ripping of the nerves, such an ache of the heart.

A house is a compressed territory where our basic needs can be fulfilled close by and safely.

How true is that necessity is the mother of invention, how very true.

I think art comes from some sense of discomfort with the world, some sense of not quite fitting with it.

I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.

Animals in the wild lead lives of compulsion and necessity within an unforgiving social hierarchy in an environment where the supply of fear is high and the supply of food is low and where territory must constantly be defended and parasites forever endured.