"My speech is imperfect. Not because I want to shine with words, but out of the impossibility of finding those words, I speak in images. With nothing else can I express the words from the depths."
"In the darkness her face, her cheeks, the whole contours of her glowed as Madame Liberty. I saw her in the distance. But as the morning breeze romped in the trees and her hair became a little dishevelled, and the light from her torch was dimmed a little by the sun, my heart wavered just a bit. I didn’t really know why this was. But I thought of the dangers of being too long mired in a pit, and how at some point you start to think of it as home."