“Every morning I walk like this aroundthe pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart ever close, I am as good as dead.”

“LandscapeIsn't it plain the sheets of moss, except thatthey have no tongues, could lectureall day if they wanted aboutspiritual patience? Isn't it clearthe black oaks along the path are standingas though they were the most fragile of flowers?Every morning I walk like this aroundthe pond, thinking: if the doors of my heartever close, I am as good as dead.Every morning, so far, I'm alive. And nowthe crows break off from the rest of the darknessand burst up into the sky—as thoughall night they had thought of what they would like their lives to be, and imaginedtheir strong, thick wings.”

“It's been five weeks since she walked out of my door. I started counting the second the door closed. I wonder when I'll stop.”

“My soul is calm and clear, like the mountains in the morning. But they think I am cold, and a mocker with terrible jests.”

“and all I could think was that I would like to spend every morning for the rest of my life waking up beside her”

“Every time people come at us with the intention of killing us, I close my eyes and wait for death. Even thought I am still alive, I feel like each time I accept death, part of me dies. Very soon I will completely die and all that will be left is my empty body walking with you. It will be quieter than I am.”