So much of our thinking is involved with things we’ve already done and things we have yet to do. It’s almost impossible not to be thinking about some future moment or some past mistake or tragedy.

A fire needs three things: a dry bed, fuel, and room to breathe.

When I let go of my own work, my own priorities, I lost the qualities he had been attracted to in the first place. That’s how he put it. He loved the woman I was before I was in love with him.

Believe me when I tell you that everything is temporary. Everything. There’s not a thing in the world that will not change, including you.

The animals know what’s coming before we do; they heed the instinct to flee. But we humans, even when we know what’s coming, we do nothing. We watch the animals disappear.

Monotonous and thankless as her job can be sometimes, she cheers at the thought of her coworkers - a dozen of them crammed into their little offices in the basement - all cleverly disguised as harmless geeks, all capable of saving the world if called upon.

We do not last, she thinks. In the end, only the stories survive.

The woman seems ready to be pleased with the world.

He went on, but I tuned him out. I made eye contact and nodded occasionally, but I didn’t hear what he was saying. I had heard it all before. Even men who should’ve known better–overeducated progressive types who probably considered themselves feminists–had no compunction explaining things to me.

When I let go of my own work, my own priorities, I lost the qualities he had been attracted to in the first place. That's how he put it. He loved the woman I was before I was in love with him.