“Once you know that you have a voice,” Louis said, “it’s no longer the voice that matters, but what is behind the voice.”
“You know what would be cool, next time?" said a voice behind me. "Black roses.”
“It’s rather like your voice. You put up with your voice and speak with it because you haven’t any choice. But it’s what you say that counts. It’s what distinguishes all great art from the other kind.”
“It doesn't make you a monster to want, she said, her voice very gentle. It's what you do with it that matters.”
“I love you," I said in a low, intense voice. "I will always love you, no matter what happens now.”
“It doesn’t matter’, she says, her voice soft. ‘Don’t beat yourself up for not knowing all the answers. You don’t always have to know who you are. You don’t have to have the big picture, or know where you’re heading. Sometimes it’s enough just to know what you’re going to do next.”