Things in life have no real beginning, though our stories about them always do.
Sometimes, in life, nothing happens. But, sometimes, nothing happens beautifully.
The real beauty in life is that beauty can sometimes occur.
I sit there thinking about how much courage it takes to live an ordinary life.
Yet she likes complications. She wishes she could turn and say: I like people who unbalance me.
Literature can remind us that not all life is already written down: there are still so many stories to be told.
It's not very fashionable, but I love life, and I believe that things disappear and reappear and nothing ever solidifies, no matter how middle-class, housebroken, staid, and solitary someone's life seems to be. That, I think, is what I'm writing about.