He had to remind himself that the work of a surgeon is poetry of a kind, in which blood is the meaning and flesh is the text. - Kathleen Winter

she liked a dress you could work in and not be encumbered by seams or small openings and eyelets and finicky fastenings. She liked a dress you could pull over your head and forget about.

He could see in her face that she had found a freedom he did not have. Somehow this inflexible woman had become flexible, and she was beautiful in a way that he could not attain, though she was old.

Comoditatea nu e deloc ceea ce-si doreste tineretea abia trezita. Siguranta nu e deloc ceea ce-si doreste. Nici lumea materiala nu e deloc ceea ce-si doreste.