"I kept thinking ... that somehow what was in my head--in my memory, in my thoughts--was not being translated fully into the world. I felt as though three-dimensional events were becoming two-dimensional in the telling, and as though they were smaller as well as flatter, that they were just less for being spoken. What was missing was the intense emotion that I felt, which, like water or youth itself, buoyed these small insignificant encounters into all that they meant to me. There they were, shrinking before my eyes, shrinking into my words. Anything that can be said, can be said clearly. Anything that cannot be said clearly, cannot be said."
- The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud