“What's a kiss? The sound loneliness makes when it dies.”

“I look through the window at the huge valley lit up with different colors. The town is cradled by the dark mountains. From afar it looks as if nothing can get in or out, but judging by the stillness of the view it's as if the citizens have made peace with it and have settled without worry into their insular but protected haven each evening. There are people in the world, I imagine, who are born and die in the same town, maybe even in the same house, or bed. Creatures without migration: have they not lived a life because they have not moved? What of the migratory los González, moving from one place to another and marking every stopping place with angst? What kind of alternative is that? For once my father and I are thinking thinking the same way, sharing a similar yearning for our starting points to have been different, for our final destination to be anything other than the tearful, resentful arrival it is likely to be.”

“Unlike my dead lover, I refuse to/ choose the day I shock the world. There's no/ mystery left in suicide. The challenge is, my love,/ to keep yourself awake/ despite the sleeping pill doses of sickness and/ despair.”

“what is the difference between being an independent personand being a person who is accepting of loneliness”

“When there is nothing left to give somone in need, we give them what we do have. We give them Divine Love, faith, and friendship. This is always enough to see anyone through anything. This, my friends, is how we save the world. (pg.99 of A Journey In to Divine Love)”

“Poor is the man whom is not content with what he has.”

“it hurt us both when i held you from behindbecause I couldn't change the weather with my arms”