“It wears on a person, you know, always having to be perfect. You know that one day something will happen,some problem that won't fit into a neat little project. Something that can't be fixed. Then where does that leave you?"She doesn't hesitate. "You become mortal like the rest of us," she says.”

“She wanted to say, no. She wanted to say, I have a son, there is a child, this cannot happen. Because you know that no one will ever love them like you do. You know that no one will look after them like you do. You know that it's an impossibility, it's unthinkable that you could be taken away, that you will have to leave them behind.”

“Anyway, you can't leave her like that. You can't do that to the woman. She doesn't deserve it; nobody does. You don't belong to her and she doesn't belong to you, but you're both part of each other; if she got up and left now and walked away and you never saw each other again for the rest of your lives, and you lived an ordinary waking life for another fifty years, even so on your deathbed you would still know she was part of you.”

“Sometimes you see someone doing something that does not fit at all with your idea of that person. You realise that, a lot of the time, you don't really know people, even one of your best friends.Instead, you get to know a little bit about that person - the little things they want to reveal, or inadvertently reveal - and then you make up a whole lot of rubbish that's your idea of the person.”

“It is on a day like this one,a little later a little earlier that you descover without surprisethat something is wrongthat you don't know how to live and you will never know”

“Some people, they can't just move on, you know, mourn and cry and be done with it. Or at least seem to be. But for me... I don't know. I didn't want to fix it, to forget. It wasn't something that was broken. It's just...something that happened. And like that hole, I'm just finding ways, every day, of working around it. Respecting and remembering and getting on at the same time. ”