“And now, if you have anything more to ask, I can't think how you can manage it, for I've never heard anyone tell more of the story of the world. Make what use of it you can.”

“When you look into the faces of these quiet creatures who don't know how to tell stories--who are mute, who can't make themselves heard, who fade into the woodwork, who only think of the perfect answer after the fact, after they're back at home, who can never think of a story that anyone else will find interesting--is there not more depth and more meaning in them? You can see every letter of every untold story swimming on their faces, and all the signs of silence, dejection, and even defeat. You can even imagine your own face in those faces, can't you?”

“How can you tell when a piece is finished?'I asked.'You can't,' he said flatly. 'All you can tell is when you can't do any more to it. And then you need to stop because if you don't, you will spoil it.”

“There is more beauty inside you than in anyone I have ever met. These pictures don’t lie. I won’t ever forget you. Or stop loving you. You can ask me to. You can tell me to move on. But I won’t. And I never will. Just don’t forget how beautiful we were. How beautiful we can still be.Please.”

“I can't control what you see or how you interpret what you see any more than I can control what you think of me.”

“Let me tell you what the problem is, Brik. Even if you knew what you want to know, you would still know nothing. You ask questions, you want to know more, but no matter how much more I tell you, you will never know anything. That's the problem.”