Everybody wears cute skirts.
Men, in our era, are very much like women were, in yours. Women are even better.
We do not understand why you liked automobiles.
Telling someone you love them is not seen as a failing, not any more.
Sometimes we get messages from the twenty-ninth century. They really messed things up in that century.
Our default mode is: love.
Love is not an abstract concept for us. We hold love.
We do not understand why so many of you spent so much time doing other things when you could have been reading.
We eat less and kiss more.
For a long while after my mother died, all I could imagine when I thought of her was an anger, a bitter sorrow - as if she were furious with me. Then my daughter had a dream about her, even though she barely knew who she was, and in the dream my mother was giving my daughter chocolate buttons - she would have. Now she’s in my dreams sometimes and when I think about her, I can almost sense something like pride. Almost.
She was born on James Joyce’s birthday.