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

She looks up at me, still rocking. “Henry . . . why did me decide to do this again?” “Supposedly when it’s over they hand you a baby and let you keep it.” “Oh yeah.” --Wednesday, September 5, 2001

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

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

I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room

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

I won't ever leave you, even though you're always leaving me.