It Is Always An Accident That Saves

There Is No Complete Life. There Are Only Fragments. We Are Born To Have Nothing, To Have It Pour Through Our Hands. And Yet, This Pouring, This Flood Of Encounters, Struggles, Dreams...

Certain Things I Remember Exactly As They Were. They Are Merely Discolored A Bit By Time, Like Coins In The Pocket Of A Forgotten Suit. Most Of The Details, Though, Have Long Since Been Transformed Or Rearranged To Bring Others Of Them Forward. Some, In Fact, Are Obviously Counterfeit; They Are No Less Important. One Alters The Past To Form The Future.

I Don't Fear Death. I'm Not Obsessed With It The Way Everybody Else Seems To Be.

I Am Afraid Of Him, Of All Men Who Are Successful In Love.

One Of The Last Great Realizations Is That Life Will Not Be What You Dreamed.