It was wonderful to sit with her head on my shoulder for hours and feel as I always have, even now, closer to her than to any other human being. And I wouldn’t mind a bit if in a few years you and I could snuggle up together under a stone in some old graveyard here. That is really a happy thought and not melancholy at all.

A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.

But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That’s how you’ll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky.

Just like a sunbeam can’t separate itself from the sun, and a wave can’t separate itself from the ocean, we can’t separate ourselves from one another. We are all part of a vast sea of love, one indivisible divine mind.