Quotes from Simon Van Booy

Music is only a mystery to people who want it explained. Music and love are the same.

truth is just a lie that everyone believes.

Could it be that first love was the only true love? And that after those first fires had been doused or burned out, men and women chose whom they would love based on worldly needs, and then reenacted the rituals and feelings of that first pure experience - nursed the flames that once burned of their own accord...

She once told me that she loved me because I was the only thing she could hear. She can feel the vibration of the strings through the carved vessel of her instrument, but I am inside her. I am a song soaked into each bone of her secret body where the world has not been able to wander.

Music helps us understand where we have come from but, more importantly, what has happened to us.

Life just swallows you up, doesn't it?Just swallows you up with its everyday things

Love is also a violence, and cannot be undone.

Everything you are afraid of will never happen. It's the events you cannot conceive of that happen.

Rain says everything we cannot say to one another. t is an ancient sound that willed all life into being, but fell so long upon nothing.

The very best and the very worst of life will come from [their] ability to love strangers.

Language is like looking at a map of somewhere. Love is living there and surviving on the land.

Language is like drinking from one's own reflection in still water. We only take from it what we are at the time.

My old geography professor once told his class how the music, paintings, sculptures, and books of the world are mirror in which people see versions of themselves.

And he is enchanted by the beauty of small things: hot coffee, wind through an open window, the tapping of rain, a passing bicycle, the desolation of snow on a winter's day.

In the end I didn't know who I was crying for, but it was something my body wanted to do, as though trying to digest grief.

The present grows within the boundaries of the past.

There are some lies that, under the right circumstances, are the only truth

Anyone who is desperate or alone will agree there is comfort in routine.

She told me that while my father's body might be crushed under tons of black earth, the body is nothing but camouflage. She whispered that every soul is a river trying to find its way back to the sea.

I suppose the key to a good life is to gently overlook the truth and hope that at any moment we can all be reborn.

I want to feel it somehow happened like that because things happen for a reason. I want to believe this more than anything because if it were just an accident, then God must have died before he could finish the world.

We cross from memory into imagination with only a vague awareness of change.

It's tempting to imagine how we could hurt someone close, because it reminds us how fiercely we love them.

The love of a man is like a drop of color into something clear.