Every book has to wait for the right time to be read and understood.

We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.

For what was it about books that once finished left the reader in a bit of a haze and made them reread the last few sentences in order to continue the ringing in their hearts a while longer, so as not to let the silence illumine the fact that reading, they had gained something — distance, a lesson, a companion, a new world — but now, after the last full stop, they had lost something palpable and felt a little emptier than before.

She might not have read many books. But when she reads a book, she swallows the very words. If you open the books on her shelves, you will find that the front and back covers encase white pages.

It is a dangerous thing to substitute reading or writing for living. Live first, then write.

Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn’t you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.

Because at nightwhen others are sleeping, I drown myself in poetry.

Oh, how scary and wonderful it is that words can change our lives simply by being next to each other.

Your love opened up a whole world that no amount of books or wisdom could ever do.