It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends. I can remember now, with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict, when New York began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended, can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact place on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was.

Often when you think you're at the end of something, you're at the beginning of something else.

She would tell her that endings are also beginnings, we just don't know it at the time.

For even the very wise cannot see all ends.

471. It is so difficult to find the beginning. Or, better: it is difficult to begin and the beginning. And not try to go further back.

I know beginnings, I know endings too,
and life-in-death, and something else
I'd rather not recall just now.

The possession of a strong will and a clever head makes some things very difficult to see

Things have their roots and branches. Affairs have their beginnings and their ends. To know what is first and what is last will lead one near the Way.

Many of the things I see in the world seem very beautiful, but it’s still hard for me to figure out how things can be the way they are, and I guess that’s one of the reasons why my movies tend to be open to many different interpretations.

Beginnings are such delicate times.

Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring.

Sometimes it is harder to accede to a thing than it is to see its truth.

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.

So while it seemed like you were seeing everything, you really weren't. Just bits and pieces that looked like a whole.