“Sometimes you hear a voice through the door calling you... This turning toward what you deeply love saves you.”

“You've got to say what you mean and mean what you say...Doubt in your voice is an open door people will shove right through.”

“Sometimes you want to hear your own mother's voice.”

“Sometimes you just need to go through a door.”

“It’s hard to remember what you fall in love with. Usually it is an expression in the eyes, an exchange, or a gesture or the sound of a voice, a word spoken. Those things can get blended with the atmosphere around you at the time — a fragrance in the air, a play of light, even music — so that they become almost one with each other and when you see or smell or hear the memories of a place you feel the love again, but as a pang of loss. Sometimes the feelings get connected so deeply to your body that even your own skin, your own eyes in the mirror remind you of what you no longer have. Sometimes it only takes a few things for someone to attach the way I did — enough hunger, enough loneliness, enough loss, someone who will feed you and touch you and listen. Sometimes attachment — call it love — is more complex than that. When you are in the state I was in, love can be tied up with other things, like excitement and danger, and the desire to know what really happened, what actually took place.”

“....and I'll know that this is what you live for - to hear someone say. "Let's go home," to hear someone you love call your name.”