“My first memory is of light -- the brightness of light -- light all around.”
“The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all. I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world, a fleeting image in the moving water.”
“In all circumstances, I always look for the light and build around it, with little memory of pain.”
“All the day I held the memory of you, and woveIts laughter with the dancing light o' the spray,And sowed the sky with tiny clouds of love...”
“Who can be worried without the light of a memory?”