The first sentence of every novel should be: Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human.
A woman should never learn to sew, and is she can she shouldn’t admit to it
Before the real city could be seen it had to be imagined, the way rumours and tall tales were a kind of charting.
For when people leave our company in our time we are never certain of seeing them again, or seeing them unaltered.
If a man’s life could be capitalized as X, the risk at Y, and the estimated damage from explosion at V, then a logician might contend that if V is less than X over Y, the bomb should be blown up; but if V over Y is greater than X, an attempt should be made to avoid explosion in situ.
She entered the story knowing she would emerge from it feeling she had been immersed in the lives of others, in plots that stretched back twenty years, her body full of sentences and moments, as if awaking from sleep with a heaviness caused by unremembered dreams.
From this point on, she whispered, we will either find or lose our souls.
We are the real countries, not the boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men.
There is God only in the desert, he wanted to acknowledge that now. Outside of this there was just trade and power, money and war.
We have art,’ Nietzsche said, ‘so that we shall not be destroyed by the truth.