“… all endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.”
“No story sits by itself. Sometimes stories meet at corners and sometimes they cover one another completely, like stones beneath the river.”
“He felt I had shamed him, and I suppose, in his world, I had. But fathers can ruin their sons, and I was, in a fashion, ruined after that.”
“War had crawled inside of Eddie, in his leg and in his soul.”
“That’s what heaven is. You get to make sense of your yesterdays.”
“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”
“Love, like rain, can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes, under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots, keeping itself alive.”
“The unspoken blame for this never found a resting place –it simply moved like a shadow from husband to wife.”
“The water of their love was hidden beneath the roots.”
“The waters of their love fell again from above and soaked them as surely as the sea that gathered at their feet.”
“She realised this was protocol, their way of being nice while being helpless…”
“On earth, Marguerite said, when you fell asleep, you sometimes dreamed your heaven and those dreams helped to form it. But there was no reason for such dreams now.”
“Life has to end,” she said. “Love doesn’t.”
“… the paleness of surrender becomes the colour of Eddie’s days.”
“… each affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.”
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