“...the best poems were like little vessels that carry messages that can’t be transported in any other way; miniature worlds like tiny paintings or Faberge eggs.”

“Maybe other people are like mirrors that we see ourselves in; versions of ourselves that vary dramatically depending on the particular cut of glass.”

“I think we all look for clues that we are not utterly alone... Clues we find in literature and paintings and music and even someone’s eyes; clues that demonstrate that someone else has felt the same indescribable feelings, seen the same things or passed by the spot even if it was by candlelight three hundred years ago. It means everything, like finding footprints in the sand of a deserted island.”

“Without art; without paintings, books, sculpture and music, the human soul would be quite impenetrable, don’t you think?”

“...and thinking how the first scent of autumn is like coming across a lost album of childhood photographs.”

“There were angels too, some bent with devotion, others standing with heads cast down and hands clasped together, bereft. I thought of [them] and how maybe the important thing is to have somebody grieve for you; to know that angels will bow in sorrow.”

“Like most bookworms I read so as not to be alone, which often annoys those who are trying to make conversation with me.”