“He so did not sit down and have a proper talk with her. I know it. He probably sent her a brief text, saying, Over. Sam.”

“Come," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her to a distant sopha, "come and sit by me, and let us talk of bats.”

“A shell screams over the house. He thinks: I only want to sit here with her for a thousand hours.”

“He wondered if she'd mind if he threw her down on the blanket and tore off her clothing. (..) She looked heartbreakingly innocent. Alex sighed. She'd probably mind.”

“She's so many women,
He can't find the one who was his friend.
So he's hanging on to half her heart.
He can't have the restless part,
So he tells her to hasten down the wind.”

“He had experienced the horror that leaves you calm and unafraid, but for her something inside was broken and he did not know if it could be mended. Her life, her horror, he could not tell.”

“Jesus! Did I SAY that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me? I glanced over at my attorney, but he seemed oblivious…”

“He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow all in the space of three seconds; he did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together.”

“If he touched her, he couldn't talk to her, if he loved her he couldn't leave, if he spoke he couldn't listen, if he fought he couldn't win.”

“He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.”