“I have lost all sense of home, having moved about so much. It means to me now--only that place where the books are kept.”

“I had come to a place where I was meant to be. I don't mean anything so prosaic as a sense of coming home. This was different, very different. It was like arriving at a place much safer than home.”

“So, are you telling me we're lost?""Not yet," Eli said."But you have no idea where we are.""Not really.""That means 'lost' in my book," Sam said. "What's the difference between having no idea where we are and being lost?""Having no idea where we are on the lake is one thing, but if I can get a clue about which direction is which, then I will know which way to go," Eli said."Still sounds like lost to me," Sam muttered.”

“...without moving a muscle in his face, slips away; retreats, I think, to that sheltered place where his stories are kept. Perhaps we all have our places.”

“Home is the place you return to when you have finally lost your soul. Home is the place where life is born, not the place of your birth, but the place where you seek rebirth. When you no longer have to remember which tale of your own past is true and which is an invention, when you know that you are an invention, then is the time to seek out your home. Perhaps only when you have come to understand that can you finally reach home.”

“For all these years I kept my mouth closed so selfish desires would not fall out. And because I remained quiet for so long now my daughter does not hear me... All these years I kept my true nature hidden, running along like a small shadow so nobody could catch me. And because I moved so secretly now my daughter does not see me... We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing; unheard and not hearing, unknown by others. ”