It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: “It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me.

...and I suddenly feel that Henry is there, incredible need for Henry to be there and to put his hand on me even while it seems to me that Henry is the rain and I am alone and wanting him - Clare

When the woman you live with is an artist, every day is a surprise.

...all of our laments could not add a single second to her life, not one additional beat of the heart, nor a breath.

And Clare, always Clare.

That’s the thing about living vicariously; it’s so much faster than actual living. In a few minutes we’ll be worrying about names for the children.

We laugh and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.