“When my father wrote about fate, I think he was writing about the reality that is, when there are so many other realities that could have been.”

“Sometimes there are things we don't understand even about ourselves. Sometimes we run out of the time to keep trying to unravel them, and we have to sit back and content ourselves with a shrug. But...”

“Sadness, forever unacknowledged, eventually becomes resentment.”

“We are inscrutable even to ourselves, I suppose.”

“There's an intimacy in listening to somebody's lies, I've always thought--you learn more about someone from the things they wish were true than from the things that actually are.”

“My father had a healthy disregard for social conventions: he once let me paint the house windows in rainbows with my watercolor set, to my mother's horror, and he'd clap for trees that he thought w...”

“Your heart swallowed me like a well and I will never be able to climb out. I fell. I fell into your infinity. And my inability to free myself will doom your life.”

“How foolish to believe we are more powerful than the sea or the sky.”

“I love the thrill of impending, weightless doom...”

“It's probably a merciful thing that pain is impossible to describe from memory”

“Yes. We both have a bad feeling. Tonight we shall take our bad feelings and share them, and face them. We shall mourn. We shall drain the bitter dregs of mortality. Pain shared, my brother, is pain...”

“Time deals gently only with those who take it gently.”

“Punctuality is the thief of time.”

“If you want to be regarded as a valuer of life, then first value time.”

“I figured this was the easy stuff, and if we couldn't show up on time, looking right and acting right, we weren't going to be able to do anything else.”