You could jump so much higher when you had somewhere safe to fall.
Two musicians could play the same notes and sound entirely different. Intonation was everything.
There is no special protection when you cross that invisible line from your ordinary life to that parallel world where tragedies happen. It happens just like this. You don’t become someone else. You’re still exactly the same. Everything around you still smells and looks and feels exactly the same.
Raising awareness. It’s a good thing. Makes people think twice.
Nobody felt embarrassed in front of nice geeky people. That’s why they were relaxing to be around.
No one warned you that having children reduced you right down to some smaller, rudimentary, primitive version of yourself, where your talents and your education and your achievements meant nothing.
Life was all about consequences.
It was interesting that fury and fear could look so much the same.
It was interesting how a marriage instantly became public property as soon as it looked shaky.
Everyone had another sort of life up their sleeve that might have made them happy.
Elderly women were as tough as nails but it seemed that men got softer as they aged; their emotions caught them off guard, as if some protective barrier had been worn away by time.