Such a mysterious business, motherhood. How brave a woman must be to embark on it.

Humans withdraw to their homes, and surrender the night to the creatures that own it: the crickets, the owls, the snakes. A world that hasn't changed for hundreds of thousands of years wakes up, and carries on as if the daylight and the humans and the changes to the landscape have all been an illusion.

To have any kind of a future you've got to give up hope of ever changing your past.

Sometimes life turns out hard, Isabel. Sometimes it just bites right through you. And sometimes, just when you think it's done its worst, it comes back and takes another chunk.

That's how life goes on - protected by the silence that anesthetizes shame.

Every end is the beginning of something else.

Right and wrong can be like bloody snakes: so tangled up that you can't tell which is which until you've shot 'em both, and then it's too late.

Scars are just another kind of memory.

You don’t think ahead in years or months: you think about this hour, and maybe the next. Anything else is speculation.

History is that which is agreed upon by mutual consent.

No one ever has or ever will travel quite the same path on earth.

We live with the decisions we makeThat’s what bravery is. Standing by the consequences of your mistakes.

You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day.

When he wakes sometimes from dark dreams of broken cradles, and compasses without bearings, he pushes the unease down, lets the daylight contradict it. And isolation lulls him with the music of the lie.

Once a child gets into your heart, there’s no right or wrong about it.

Oh, but my treasure, it is so much less exhausting. You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. You have to keep remembering all the bad things.