“You think when you wake up in the mornin yesterday don’t count. But yesterday is all that does count. What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it’s made out of. Nothin else.”

We think we are the victims of time. In reality, the way of the world isn’t fixed anywhere. How could that be possible? We are our own journey. And therefore we are time as well. We are the same. Fugitive. Inscrutable. Ruthless.

The closest bonds we will ever know are bonds of grief. The deepest community one of sorrow.

She said that these were things all women knew yet seldom spoke of. Lastly she said that if women were drawn to rash men it was only that in their secret hearts they knew that a man who would not kill for them was of no use at all.

I always thought when I got older that God would sort of come into my life in some way. He didn’t. I don’t blame him. If I was him I’d have the same opinion about me that he does.

He’d half meant to speak but those eyes had altered the world forever in the space of a heartbeat.

You fix what you can fix and you let the rest go. If there ain’t nothin to be done about it it aint even a problem. It’s just a aggravation.

If only my heart were stone.

Life is brief and to have to spend every day of it doing what somebody else wants you to do is not the way to live it.

If trouble comes when you least expect it then maybe the thing to do is to always expect it.

Keep a little fire burning; however small, however hidden.

By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.

You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.

He said that those who have endured some misfortune will always be set apart but that it is just that misfortune which is their gift and which is their strength.

The things that I loved were very frail. Very fragile. I didn’t know that. I thought they were indestructible. They weren’t.

Do you know what happens with people who cannot govern themselves? That’s right. Others come in to govern for them.

Long before morning I knew that what I was seeking to discover was a thing I’d always known. That all courage was a form of constancy. That it is always himself that the coward abandoned first. After this all other betrayals come easily.