“He slowed down a bit more. "Gaia, how do you know these things?" She shrugged. "I'm smart." "And modest, too." "Modesty is a waste of time," she pronounced. "I'll keep that in mind.”

“Did you miss me?’
“A little bit,” she said with a shrug.
“You have tears running down your cheeks,” he said with a grin. “I think you missed me more than a little.”

“If they tell you that she died of sleeping pills you must know that she died of a wasting grief, of a slow bleeding at the soul.”

“Let go of me or slow down," she demanded as she tried to keep pace with him.
He slowed down. "I swear to God, you try the patience of a saint."
"You aren't a saint, Brodick, no matter what your mother might have told you.”

“So," says Lev, as casually as he can, "you wanna dance?" "Do you believe in the end of the world?" she responds. Lev shrugs. "I don't know. Why?" "Because the day after that is when I'll dance with you.”

“You know how I'm smart? I got people around me who know more than I do.”

“Let's face it, she can't have simply disappeared… can she?"
Horace shrugged. "That's what I keep telling myself," he said morosley. "But somehow it looks as if she has.”

“She's got a rum job, but she knows how to do it, and to have a job and know how to do it is one of the best things in this life. And if only she stops hankering after Cambridge…”

“He shook his head in wonder. "You are magnificent."
"I keep telling everyone that," she said with a nonchalant shrug, "But you seem to be the only one to believe me.”

“When the music is over, she keeps her head down till she finds her seat again, and I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.”