In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.
The old dreams were good dreams; they didn’t work out but I’m glad I had them.
Analysis destroys wholes. Some things, magic things, are meant to stay whole. If you look at their pieces, they go away.
Gypsies make difficult friends for ordinary people, and he was seething of a gypsy.
I made that horn sound like it never had before; I made it cry for all the miles and years that separated them.
Francesca was feeling good feelings, old feelings, poetry and music feelings.
His eyes looked directly at her, and she felt something jump inside. The eyes, the voice, the face, the silver hair, the easy way he moved his body, old ways, disturbing ways, ways that draw you in. Ways that whisper to you in the final moment before sleep comes, when the barriers have fallen.
Life is never easy for those who dream.
There are songs that come free from the blue-eyed grass, from the dust of a thousand country roads. This is one of them.
And in that moment, everything I knew to be true about myself up until then was gone. I was acting like another woman, yet I was more myself than ever before.
The overriding problem with our country, and our world in general, is that we are, in large part, managed by incompetents. Most of these are men who have spent their lives seeking power rather than themselves.
Once a person knows a kiss and a kind word, you can’t blame him for never wanting to live without them again. – “The Bridges of Madison County”