Life is not a paragraph, and death is not parenthesis.
A tiding of magpies: One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for secret never to be told.
There’s nothing so painful, so corrosive, as suspicion.
The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps.
I have never understood how people can blithely disregard the damage they do by following their hearts.