Sonya Hartnett

I fail to see how turning the subject over like compost can do anything except raise its stink.

I thought about how stupid it is, that all of us are born destined to desire somebody else, though desire brings with it such disappointment and pain. Humankind's history must be scored bloody with heartbreak. This hankering for affection is a blight upon us.

How does one craft happiness out of something as important, as complicated, as unrepeatable and as easily damaged as life?