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“Ruth heard the supplication in her words and it seemed to her that she was not looking at a person but at an impulse, a cell, a red corpuscle that neither knows nor understands why it is driven to spend its whole life in one pursuit: swimming up a dark tunnel towards the muscle of a heart or an eye’s nerve end that it both nourished and fed from.”

“He’s more myself than I am”

“It’s distinctly successful, as ponds go,” said Mr. Beebe. “No apologies are necessary for the pond.” a true yapper

“Shame flooded him immediately, like seawater filling a lung.”

“But I know the words will never feel like the thing. The language will never be the thing… Because I know my writing can never make any of these deaths matter the way they’re supposed to.”

“We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.”

“It was the golden time of year. Every day the leaves grew brighter, the air sharper, the grass more brilliant. The sunsets seemed to expand and melt and stretch for hours, and the brick façades glowed pink, and everything blue got bluer. How many perfect autumns did a person get? Why did I seem always to be in the wrong place, listening to the wrong music”

“I’d like to go back to those minutes in the schoolyard when the past had dropped off of us and the future hadn’t yet begun.”

“How life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach.”

“Anyway, I’m sort of glad that they’ve got the atomic bomb invented. If there’s ever another war, I’m going to sit right the hell on top it it.”