Nat Parson says it's the devil's mark." "Nat Parson's a gobshite." Maddy was torn between a natural feeling of sacrilege and a deep admiration of anyone who dared call a parson 'gobshite.

She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.

Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.

It isn't just a village. The houses aren't just places to live. Everything belongs to everybody. Everyone belongs to everyone else. Even a single person can make a difference.

I let it go. It's like swimming against the current. It exhausts you. After a while, whoever you are, you just have to let go, and the river brings you home.

A man may plant a tree for a number of reasons. Perhaps he likes trees. Perhaps he wants shelter. Or perhaps he knows that someday he may need the firewood.

I've never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.

I have an advanced degree in procrastination and another one in paranoia.

Some people spend the whole of their lives sitting waiting for one train, only to find that they never even made it to the station.

Life is what you celebrate. All of it. Even its end.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Live brightly.

Don't hang with negative people. They will pull you down with them. Instead, invite them into your light and together you will both shine strong.

There are so many things I could say about you but none of them can describe you fully. You are the beauty I was waiting for. The love of my life of whom I dreamed day and night.

Chumps prefer a beautiful lie to an ugly truth.

Every day I will renew my commitment and think about the benefits that come from it.

I think every discovery of the world plunges us into jubilation, a radical amazement that tears apart the veil of triviality.

Retirement is a waste of time. The economy needs you!

Let our lives be pure as snowfields, where our steps leave a mark but no stain.

Why should I be honored? Don't I have enough attention, comfort and power already?