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Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.
The life we make for ourselves on land is futile. In the end, the water will win.’
She felt that if any god or gods existed, they would be diffused throughout everything and everyone on earth, neither benevolent nor malign, but simply existing, drawing everything together, living and dead.
The stars, their cold white light piercing through the black abyss of the night sky, twinkled with something like menace, and Rachel was relieved when the rising sun finally banished them.
Love was there in the beginning – even before the beginning. Love needed no words, no introduction. Existence was enough.
When they sang, we heard them. We sang with them, and welcomed this new life into a world that is cruel, but that has love in it, too, if you know where to look.
This is how we are remembered. In snatches of song, in dreams, in the smile that passes between mother and child. These are the parts of us that cannot be destroyed. These are the parts of us that feed the roots, and keep them strong.
