It Struck Me That Distant Cities Are

The Tunnels Of Our Lives Connect, Coming To Daylight At The Oddest Moments, And Then Plunge Us Into The Dark Again. We Return To The Lives Of Those Who Have Gone Before Us, A Perplexing Möbius Strip Until We Come Home, Eventually, To Ourselves.

We Stumble On, Thinks Jaslyn, Bring A Little Noise Into The Silence, Find In Others The Ongoing Of Ourselves. It Is Almost Enough.

The Real Beauty In Life Is That Beauty Can Sometimes Occur.

I Think A Good Novel Can Be A Doorstop To Despair. I Also Think The Real Bravery Comes With Those Who Prepared To Go Through That Door And Look At The World In All Its Grime And Torment, And Still Find Something Of Value, No Matter How Small.

We Have To Listen To Other People's Stories. That's The Thing. And That's The Only Way That We Eventually Get To Know Ourselves.