Now I wonder if it means that the future is a place, or like a place, that I could go to; that is go to in some way other than just getting older.
Chicago has so much excellent architecture that they feel obliged to tear some of it down now and then and erect terrible buildings just to help us all appreciate the good stuff.
The compelling thing about making art—or making anything, I suppose—is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid , a thing, a substance in a world of substances. Circe, Nimbue, Artemis, Athena, all the old sorceresses: they...
But I don't want to just believe it, I want it to be true.
Chaos is more freedom; in fact, total freedom. But no meaning.
The choices we’re working with here are a block universe, where past, present and future all coexist simultaneously and everything has already happened; chaos, where anything can happen and nothing can be predicted because we can’t know all the v...
one of the best and the most painful things about time traveling has been the opportunity to see my mother alive.
Think for a minute, darling: in fairy tales it's always the children who have the fine adventures. The mothers have to stay at home and wait for the children to fly in the window.
I told Ing once that she dances like a German and she didn't like it, but it's true: she dances seriously, like lives are hanging in the balance, like precision dancing can save the starving children of India.
After my mom died she ate my father up completely. She would have hated it. Every minute of his life since then has been marked by her absence, every action has lacked dimension because she is not there to measure against. And when I was young I didn...
You can still be cool when you’re dead. In fact, it’s much easier, because you aren’t getting old and fat and losing your hair.
...all of our laments could not add a single second to her life, not one additional beat of the heart, nor a breath.
I don't know what to say to this Clare who is old and young and different from other girls, who knows that different might be hard.
We come to a house and walk down the small walkway to its backyard. In the yard there are two screens and a slide projector. People are seated in lawn chairs, watching slides of trees.
To world enough and time.
Mama said, "Dreams are different to real life but important too.
Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust.
The hardest lesson is Clare’s solitude. Sometimes I come home and Clare seems kind of irritated; I’ve interrupted some train of thought, broken into the dreary silence of her day. Sometimes I see an expression on Clare’s face that is like a clo...
