Nicole Krauss

"I could learn Russian." Misha nodded. "I'll teach you. First word. Dai." "Dai." "Second word. Ruku." "What does it mean?" "Say it first." "Ruku." "Dai ruku." "Dai ruku. What does it mean?" Misha took my hand and held it.

It took seven languages to make me; it would be nice if I could have spoken just one. But I couldn't, so he leaned down and kissed me.

Litvinoff didn't find any comfort in this because there are two types of people in the world: those who prefer to be sad among others, and those who prefer to be sad alone.

Perhaps that is what it means to be a father--to teach your child to live without you.

Perhaps that's why I've never been able to throw anything away. Perhaps that's why I hoarded the world: with the hope that when I died, the sum total of my things would suggest a life larger than the one I lived.

He liked the color blue.

Why do people always get named after dead people? If they have to be named after anything at all, why can't it be things, which have more permanence, like the sky or the sea, or even ideas

Wittgenstein once wrote that when the eye sees something beautiful, the hand wants to draw it. I wish I could draw you. Happy early birthday.

LOVE AMONG THE ANGELS. HOW ANGELS SLEEP. Unsoundly. They toss and turn, trying to understand the mystery of the Living

the next thing that happened was we kissed each other, and I found I knew how, and I felt happy and sad in equal parts, because I knew that I was falling in love, but it wasn't with him.