“She struggled with her sadness, but tried to conceal it, to divide it into smaller and smaller parts and scatter these in places she thought no one would find them.”

Maybe that's how love works. It's like a thousand stars are shining on this one person. Then you're stuck in a time warp where everything seems to stay forever. And then comes the black hole and takes everything away from you. Like it never existed. But you're stuck in this endless universe of a broken heart.

It sucks that you have to keep yourself busy to feel okay.

“Give me a few days of peace in your arms—I need it terribly. I’m ragged, worn, exhausted. After that I can face the world.”

The flamingoes stretched out their wings like ballet dancers on tiptoe, and in their dance, they revealed the secret of eternity.

Notice the way in which people show their gullibility and their herd instinct, and their wish - or perhaps their need - to be fooled. Credulity may be a form of innocence, but it provides a standing invitation for the wicked and the clever to exploit their brothers and sisters.

Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about.