“She felt a stealing sense of fatigue as she walked; the sparkle had died out of her, and the taste of life was stale on her lips. She hardly knew what she had been seeking, or why the failure to find it had so blotted the light from her sky: she was only aware of a vague sense of failure, of an inner isolation deeper than the loneliness about her.”

“I discovered that I need to not know what I’m thinking — if I become conscious of what I’m thinking, I can no longer think, I can only see myself think. When I say “think” I’m referring to the way I dream words. But thought needs to be a feeling. I now know how to think of nothing. It was a conquest. Not thinking means the inexpressible contact with the Nothing.”

“Nostalgia is continually aroused and teased; you miss clips the moment they’re gone, and cling to the aural afterglow of what has passed even as you focus on what is coming, what keeps coming.”