“There are things that make no sense,that seem unreal,that can’t be grasped or understoodor explained,that maybe don’t even exist…And still, somehow, those wonderful things touch and change our lives.Isn’t it strange?”

“Sometimes things just don’t make sense, and sometimes they make even less sense.”

“Of course, it’s true that sometimes the pink at sunrise somehow seems brighter than the pink at sunset, and that when you’re feeling down the the landscape seems darker too - you see things through the filter of your own sensibility. But the things themselves, out there, they don’t change. They existed, and that’s all there is to it.”

“the function of imagination is not to make strange things settled, so much as to make settled things strange; not so much to make wonders facts as to make facts wonders.”

“But that’s the wonderful thing about foreign travel, suddenly you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you have only the most basic sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross the street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.”

“You can’t help wondering if this is the year that you’d be getting a good story again. It was the same thing you wondered last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. In light of everything and in spite of everything, it seems foolish to expect and demand for anything. It seems foolish to even hope. Yet, you still do.”