“...in the morning -- 'When the world looks promising again despite what we know about it' -- ...”

“We cling to our hearts, to what warms them, to what gives us hope, to things we can look upon and know the world will someday be okay again.”

“But that's part of faith. Believing and knowing despite what other people say, and despite what the world might think of your beliefs.”

“By the age I was then I ought to know the truism that things always look different in the morning. As the night comes on and the deeper it gets, the more mad we are, the more prone to dreadful fears and fantasies. In the morning, not when we first wake up but gradually, things begin to look unlike what they looked like at eleven, at midnight.”

“We all know water promises weight to carry our grief, pulsing, further and still further away. The cave is something else entirely. Its promises are the sharp moments of sex we insist frighten us when anyone asks us about love, but which we secretly desire above all faint and feathered touch. The prince always knows this and turns again and again away from his beloved when she becomes too tender. He is looking for the opening where the egg rests unharmed. Yes, memory is velocity solidified and molded into something with hooves and breath. We must be careful where we let these creatures run—to granite or sea.”

“Each morning, when you awaken, promise the dawn that you'll keep your heart as light as a feather. Commit again each night at sunset.”