He is coming, and I am here.

...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

…she smiles in an exhausted but warm sort of way, as though she is a brilliant sun in some other galaxy

I'm bored with knitting. I've taken up arson.

I look at him, look at the book, remember, this book, this moment, the first book I ever loved

I've noticed that Henry needs an incredible amount of physical activity all the time in order to be happy. It's like hanging out with a greyhound.

I sit quietly and think about my mom. It's funny how memory erodes, If all I had to work from were my childhood memories, my knowledge of my mother would be faded and soft, with a few sharp memories standing out.