For you, a thousand times over.” Then I turned and ran. It was only a smile, nothing more. It didn’t make everything alright. It didn’t make anything all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. But I’ll take it. With open arms.
That is something a person will never regret. You will never say to yourself when you are old, Ah, I wish I was not good to that person. You will never think that.
Words were secret doorways and I held all the keys.
For some people, particularly women, marriage-even an unhappy one such as this-is an escape from even greater unhappiness.
There is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft.
The lucky ones, the ones who weren’t here when the place was getting bombed to hell. We’re not like these people. We shouldn’t pretend we are. The stories these people have to tell, we’re not entitled to them.
After all, didn’t all fathers in their secret hearts harbor a desire to kill their sons?
Her beauty was a weapon. A loaded gun, with the barrel pointed at her own head.
War doesn’t negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace.
He lived in a mansion, but in a shrunken world”.
It’s a half bridge, really, as only four of its original arches remain. It ends midway across the river. Like it reached, tried to reunite with, the other side and fell short.
It’s often a matter of sitting in front of the computer and worrying. It’s what writing comes down to – worrying that things aren’t going to work out.
Nothing good came free. Even love. You paid for all things. And if you were poor, suffering was your currency.
And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.
A man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer.
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
All good things in life are fragile and easily lost.
The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.
Of all the hardships a person had to face, none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.
Not a word passes between us, not because we have nothing to say, but because we don’t have to say anything.