“...she was still in love and didn't know what to do with all this love of hers. There was so much of it, and it was so messy: leaking, spilling, tumbling out of her, like stuffing falling out of an old rag dol that was coming apart at the seams. If only she could box up her love, as she was attempting to do with his possessions.”
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“Rien de ce qui a existé ne saurait disparaître. Je ne meurs pas, tu me continues.”
“If life must go on, then so must death, and, like life, it would be a continuing story.”
“First find out what you are capable of, then decide who you are.”
“He forgot that anybody was there, and, sobbing, hid his face in his great hands.”