I’ve never been the most important thing to anybody – not even myself.
Everything we come across becomes a part of us. It doesn’t matter how small or insignificant it is…or how devastating. One story here, one story there, that’s what I see when I look back at my life. An accumulation of everything I went through.
Magic. I draw with silver and it turns red.
There is some kind of a sweet innocence in being human- in not having to be just happy or just sad- in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time.
Do you understand the sadness of geography?
We have an obligation to feel guilty.” The words came out of her lips as if she were reciting an elegy. “Guilty. Because we kill the ones we love.
He turned away; he threw himself on his face on the sofa. ‘Oh, Jane! my hope – my love – my life!’ broke in anguish from his lips.
What is it about me that gets them all crying? It’s not the end of the world.
She felt happy these days, yet there was always an undercurrent of sadness just below the surface
Love doesn’t always show us the sad and the sorrowful part of it, it only shows us the happy circle a gain and a gain.