Quotes

  Do not stand           By my grave, and weep.      I am not there,           I do not sleep— I am the thousand winds that blow I am the diamond glints in snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight, I am the day transcending night.      Do not stand           By my grave, and cry—      I am not there,           I did not die.

When I desire you, a part of me is gone: my want of you partakes of me. So reasons the lover at the edge of eros. The presence of want awakens in him nostalgia for wholeness. 

You're hiding in the background, but you want to be found.

The end doesn't always feel like it. People come and go; they slip through the door when you're not looking and never come back. Sometimes there are no goodbyes.

It is impossible to predict what might happen in a world where you don't know the rules.

"But you are a great sinner, that's true," he added almost solemnly, "and your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."

I've seen so many beautiful things. I feel like I'm over 100 years old, with what I've experienced. So frankly, I go without fear. I'd do anything to keep living like this.

Most of us prefer to believe we are the active subjects of our victories but only the passive objects of our defeats. We triumph, but it is not really we who fail - we are ruined by forces beyond our control.

We curl up on the couch together, under a blanket, whisper I love you, I missed you, confusing tenses I think.

Most people fall in love for the first time as teenagers. I guess I’m a late bloomer. Maybe I’m too picky. On May 30, 1995, I finally fell in love for the first time. It was raining that night. When I looked at her I suddenly felt like I was a store. And she was me. Without any warning, she suddenly enters the store.  I don’t know how long she’ll stay. The longer the better, of course.

I used to think there was such a thing as emptiness, that there were places in the world one could go and be alone. This, I think, is still true, but the error in my reasoning was to assume that alone was somewhere you could go, rather than somewhere you had to be left.

She had flirted with alcohol for years. Now it was time to consummate the relationship.

If she knew how often I was thinking about her, she wouldn't feel lonely.

There could have been many responses. Hers is not to feel. She can’t afford to. She is doing so well; that’s what everyone says—the teachers, her two aunts, the counselor she sees for a time. Her schoolwork actually improves. But she’s not even remotely coping inside: it takes a certain strength to cry, the confidence that one will eventually be able to staunch the tears. She doesn’t have the luxury of feeling just a little sad. The danger is that she might fall apart and never know how to put the pieces back together. To prevent the possibility, she cauterizes her wounds as best she can, aged seven.