memories are like corks left out of bottles. They swell. They no longer fit.

I have everything I need. A square of sky, a piece of stone, a page, a pen, and memory raining down on me in sleeves.

You cannot just waste time. Otherwise you'll die to regret it.

During your life, everything you do and everyone you meet rubs off in some way. Some bit of everything you experience stays with everyone you've ever known, and nothing is lost. That's what is eternal, these little specks of experience in a great, enormous river that has no end.