"If at large gatherings or parties, or around people with whom you feel distant, your hands sometimes hang awkwardly at the ends of your arms—if you find yourself at a loss for what to do with them, overcome with sadness that comes when you recognise the foreignness of your own body—it’s because your hands remember a time when the division between mind and body, brain and heart, what’s inside and what’s outside, was so much less." — Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
There is such a thing as the perfect moment— time brings things of its own accord, we do not merely insert acts and phenomena into time.
It is the kind of idea that comes later to most people. Decades pass, one walks through a darkened room in which someone has died, and suddenly one recalls long forgotten words and the roar of the sea. It's as if those few words had captured the whole meaning of life, but afterwards one always talks about something else.
— Márai, Embers