He was in love, and people in that condition did stupid, unfathomable things. They were all flawed, every single one.

Every time I finish a book, I forget everything I learned writing it - the information just disappears out of my head

Another world must surely exist somewhere one where she would be known in some deep way that was far beyond words.

He'd thought he was lost, but now he recognized that eternity was around him, like salt from a shaker or stars in the sky.

Good fortune can take forever to get to you, but as it turns out, sorrow is as quick as a shot.

He started to look at me in a manner I recognized: it was the way I looked at a new book, one I had never read before, one that surprised me with all it had to say.

One of my favorites is "Time and Again" by Jack Finney. It takes place in Manhattan and goes back and forth between 1882 and the 1950s. It's really a cult book.