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“Sitting still as a way of falling in love with the world and everything in it;”
― Pico Iyer, The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere

“Well, and it is not my fault if I have not loved as one loves a concubine, since men do not.”
― Pearl S. Buck

“Tragedy, after all, is the invisible hand that spawns reflection, and reflection bears its fruit in the deepening of one's character.”
― Richard H. Harris

“But where does the silence that neglects her end, and where does the silence that respects her begin? The problem with silence is that it can’t speak up and say why it’s silent. And so silence collects, becomes amplified, takes on a life outside our intentions, in that silence can get misread as indifference, or avoidance, or even shame, and eventually this silence passes over into forgetting.”
― Cathy Park Hong, Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning