“Your memories will be a flock of birds, silently flying in the sky. You will see them flying in and see them flying away. The memories will disappear and there will be nothing left.”

“We used to send whole flocks of birds shooting out of our mouths and never managed to grab them by their wings.”

“The skerry was resting in the sea. It was like being in a cradle, or on a deathbed, he thought. All the voices hidden in the cliff were whispering. Even rocks have memories, as do waves and breakers. And down below, in the darkness where fish swam along invisible and silent channels, there were also memories.”

“People have faces. […] Spirits don’t have faces. And yet we recognise them. We know who is who. Spirits don’t have eyes or mouths or ears either. And yet they can see and speak and hear. […] The spirits are all around us. […] They’re right here, but we can’t see them.”

“Do you know what the wind tastes like? […] Mysterious spices […] that tell us about people and events far away. That we can’t see. But that we can sense if we draw the wind deep into our mouths and then eat it.”

“Memory is like glass. A person who has died is still visible, very close. But we can no longer contact each other. Death is mute; it excludes conversations, only allows silence.”

“Dreams can be of value even if you don’t have an opportunity to turn them into reality.”