Why Is It A Surprise To Find

We Say Of Some Things That They Can't Be Forgiven, Or That We Will Never Forgive Ourselves. But We Do-we Do It All The Time.

The Unhappiest Moment I Could Never Tell You. All Our Fights Blend Into Each Other And Are In Fact Re-enactments Of The Same Fight, In Which We Punish Each Other--i With Words, Hugh With Silence--for Being Each Other. We Never Needed Any More Than That.

The Complexity Of Things - The Things Within Things - Just Seems To Be Endless. I Mean Nothing Is Easy, Nothing Is Simple.

The Constant Happiness Is Curiosity.

As A Matter Of Fact She Does Not Know To This Day If Those Words Were Spoken, Or If He Only Caught Her, Wound His Arms Around Her, Held Her So Tightly, With Such Continual, Changing Pressures That It Seemed More Than Two Arms Were Needed, That She Was Surrounded By Him, His Body Strong And Light, Demanding And Renouncing All At Once, As If He Was Telling Her She Was Wrong To Give Up On Him, Everything Was Possible, But Then Again That She Was Not Wrong, He Meant To Stam Himself On Her And Go.