“I savor [my photographs] with the slightly sad joy of reflecting that all this good time is past.”
“Well--" My mother paused, and her tone was reflective in that way that is inevitably sad, because the past is sad. "What I remember," she said, "is that you were always such a dear little girl.”
“and in that one night's wickedness I drowned all my repentance,all my reflections upon my past conduct,and all my resolution for the future.”
“Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.”
“You know, I guess I just don't like to talk a lot about sad things. Now you know my flaw. What good does it do to talk about sad things in the past?”
“My heart was pounding a million trillion times a minute. I never felt more alive. Anger, sadness, joy. He made me feel it all. No one else had that kind of effect on me. No one.”