More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It makes perfect sense now—part of our human warmth is the darkness we don’t show to each other.
Petrus seemed far too old to still have a mother, and far too much a working man to weep in public, but sometimes we forget that we have blood inside us until it emerges.
Forty-eight years old. A third of the glass remaining.
Few of the stories we have inside ourselves ever get properly spoken.
What was it Pascal had written? All of our problems stem from our inability to sit quietly in a room alone.
