The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We have really no absent friends.

心可能以为它更了解：感官知道缺席会将人抹去。我们其实没有不在场的朋友。

Love is the meeting of two souls, fully accepting the dark and the light within each other.

爱是两个灵魂的相遇，完全接受彼此内在的黑暗与光明。

Memory is what we thought we’d forgotten; it’s also what we thought we’d remember.

记忆是我们以为已经忘记的东西；也是我们以为会记住的东西。

When you are young, you think that the world is a place where you can live as you choose. But as you get older, you realize that the world is a place where you have to live as you must.

年轻时，你以为世界是一个可以随心所欲生活的地方。但随着年龄增长，你意识到世界是一个你必须按照必须的方式生活的地方。

You get towards the end of life—no, not life itself, but of something else: the end of any likelihood of change in that life.

你接近生命的终点——不，不是生命本身，而是其他东西：生命中任何改变的可能性的终结。

We live in time—it holds us and moulds us—but I’ve never felt I understood it very well.

我们生活在时间中——它塑造并控制着我们——但我从未觉得自己真正理解它。

History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.

历史是记忆的不完美与文献的不足相遇时产生的确定性。

How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life.

我们多久讲述一次自己的人生故事？我们多久调整、修饰、狡猾地删减一次？而且生命越长久，周围能质疑我们叙述的人就越少，提醒我们我们的生活不是我们的生活，仅仅是我们讲述的关于生活的故事。

There are things that happen and leave no discernible trace, are not spoken or written of, though it would be very wrong to say that subsequent events go on indifferently, all the same, as though such things had never been.

有些事情发生了却没有留下可察觉的痕迹，没有被谈论或记录下来，尽管如果说后续事件漠不关心地继续下去，就好像这些事情从未发生过一样，那是非常错误的。

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.

过去是一个异国他乡；他们做事的方式不同。