The weather turned. Her skin seemed to grow a million extra pores, and all of them opened to take in the warmth and tenderness of the air. The sun on her face made her want to cry. Into all those millions of open pores came the sunshine, and other feelings as well. In and out. She was porous.

All the things she planned to feel, the way she planned to look and seem, the appropriate things she planned to say. None of them came to pass.

some people fall in love over and over again while some people can only do it once.

The most haunting thing was not that he didn't love her anymore. She could have accepted that eventually. The most haunting thing was that he did. He loved her from afar. He loved her in a way that was preserved in time, that couldn't be sullied. And she tended it in her careful, curatorial way.

The word friends doesn't seem to stretch big enough to describe how we feel about each other. We forget where one of us starts and the other one stops.

When you feel someone else's pain and joy as powerfully as if it were your own, then you know you really loved them.

Marnie hated to see her spend so much of herself on someone who didn't care.