Books say: She did this because. Life says: She did this. Books are where things are explained to you; life is where things aren’t. I’m not surprised some people prefer books. Books make sense of life. The only problem is that the lives they make sense of are other people’s lives, never your own.
Noah couldn’t do anything without first wondering what He would think. Now that’s no way to go on. Always looking over your shoulder for approval – it’s not adult, is it?
Posterity will jump to conclusions: that is its nature.
What was the point of having a situation worthy of fiction if the protagonist didn’t behave as he would have done in a book?
Remorse, etymologically, is the action of biting again: that’s what the feeling does to you. Imagine the strength of the bite when I reread my words. They seemed like some ancient curse I had forgotten even uttering.
…how time first grounds us and then confounds us….give us enough time and our best-supported decisions will seem wobbly, our certainties whimsical.
The land of embarrassment and breakfast.
Constantly he went back over the evidence of his memories.
The more you learn, the less you fear. “Learn” not in the sense of academic study, but in the practical understanding of life.
Every love story is a potential grief story.