My apartment is basically a couch, an armchair, and about four thousand books.

Everything seems simple until you think about it.

The engagement ring is an emerald, and the dim light from the window is refracted green and white in it. The rings are silver, and they need cleaning. They need wearing, and I know just the girl to wear them.

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

I place my hands over her ears and tip her head back, and kiss her, and try to put my heart into hers, for safekeeping, in case I lose it again.

Chaos is more freedom; in fact, total freedom. But no meaning. I want to be free to act, and I also want my actions to mean something.

Do you ever miss him? Every day. Every minute. Every minute, she says. Yes, it's that way, isn't it?