ne plus ultra.

“I wish I had what you and Grandma have.” “You have different things,” Dong Hyun said. “You were born into a different world than I was. Maybe you don’t need what Grandma and I have.”

“She’s nice, but she’s no Sadie. I don’t feel like anyone in the world knows me except Sadie.” “Maybe you need to let more people know you.” “Maybe.”

had learned to tolerate the sometimes-painful present by living in the future.

Marx took Sadie to the Nezu Shrine. The Nezu Shrine has a tunnel of red torii gates for visitors to pass through. Sadie asked what it meant when you passed under the gates, and Marx said in Shinto tradition, a gate represented passing from the mundane to the sacred. But Marx was not Shinto, so he did not entirely know. “I used to come here when I w

There is a time for any fledgling artist where one’s taste exceeds one’s abilities. The only way to get through this period is to make things anyway. And

“I think that, too,” Sadie said. “The knowledge and experience we have—it isn’t necessarily that helpful, in a way.”

You must admit there were times when you wondered if it was a mortifying passivity that had led you to this employment.

He was accustomed to discomforts far greater.