The houses where we lived were still standing, all of them. The sole difference, which is the difference between a child’s reality and an adult’s, wa… - Karl Ove Knausgård

When the wave, equally suddenly, retreated, it left a void which resembled that of the morning, yet had a character of its own, because though the pattern was repeated it was in reverse order: the scattered schoolchildren who passed my window now were on their way home and there was something unrestrained and boisterous about them, whereas when they had walked past on their way to school in the morning they still bore the silent imprint of sleep and the innate wariness we feel toward things that have not yet begun.

God’s kingdom was the moment.
The trees, the forest, the sea, the lily, the bird, all existed in the moment. To them, there was no such thing as future or past. Nor any fear or terror.
That was the first turning point. The second came when I read what followed. What happens to the bird does not concern it.
It was the most radical thought I had ever known. It would free me from all pain, all suffering. What happens to me does not concern me.

And isn’t it actually unbelievable that one simple name encompasses all of this? The fetus in the belly, the infant on the changing table, the forty-year-old in front of the computer, the old man in the chair, the corpse on the bench?