The wine glasses are empty except for that one undrinkable red spot at the bottom.

With my hand in his, I looked at all the apartment buildings with rushes of love, peering in the wide streetside windows that revealed living rooms painted in dark burgandies and matte reds.

As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.

…kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.

I give boring people something to discuss over corn.

I didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.

I don't think so, I don't agree. The most unbearable thing I think by far, she said, is hope.