Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home. Clare sighs, turns her head, and is quiet. Hi, honey. I'm home. I'm home.

Don't you think it's better to be extremely happy for a short while, even if you lose it, than to be just okay for your whole life?

I guess no matter what your family is like, you're not surprised.

Each spine was an encapsulated memory, each book represented hours, days of pleasure, of immersion into words.

You're the oddest person I've ever met, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried.

I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always.

The hardest lesson is Clare’s solitude. Sometimes I come home and Clare seems kind of irritated; I’ve interrupted some train of thought, broken into the dreary silence of her day. Sometimes I see an expression on Clare’s face that is like a closed door. She has gone inside the room of her mind and is sitting there knitting or something. I’ve discovered that Clare likes to be alone. But when I return from time traveling she is always relieved to see me.