“I notice when you’re gone. Or do I? How can I observe something that isn’t there?”

“I notice when you’re gone. With you not being there I notice your unbeing, with you still being a being in time but not my space.”

“Isn’t it amazing how you can actually remember things? Where are they when you’re not remembering them?”

“Do you think I don't want him to be gone more than you do? I do. Because I need to know that I can still breathe properly when he's not around. If something happens to him, I have to know that I won't fall apart...”

“Art has always been my salvation. And my gods are Herman Melville, Emily Dickinson, Mozart. I believe in them with all my heart. And when Mozart is playing in my room, I am in conjunction with something I can’t explain — I don’t need to. I know that if there’s a purpose for life, it was for me to hear Mozart. Or if I walk in the woods and I see an animal, the purpose of my life was to see that animal. I can recollect it, I can notice it. I’m here to take note of. And that is beyond my ego, beyond anything that belongs to me, an observer, an observer.”

“When I was growing up I noticed something. Every time I wanted to do something and I feared that I will fail, I always ended up failing. In life, whatever you fear always happen to you.”