Manchmal denke ich, das Herz eines Menschen ist wie ein tiefer Brunnen. Niemand weiß, was auf seinem Grund ist. Man kann es sich nur anhand der Dinge vorstellen, die bisweilen an die Oberfläche treiben.

“She curled up and pressed her cheek against his chest. Her ear was right above …”

“You know what I'd really like to do the most right now? Climb up to the top of …”

“Writing novels is much the same. You gather up bones and make your gate, but no…”

“She repeated what her mother had told me, that she had been moved when she hear…”