...she could express her soul with that voice, whenver I listened to her I felt my life meant more than mere biology...she could really hear, she understood structure and she could analyze exactly what it was about a piece of music that had to be rendered just so...she was a very emotional person, Annette. She brought that out in other people. After she died I don't think I ever really felt anything again.

Listen, sometimes when you finally find out, you realize that you were much better off not knowing.

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

one of the best and the most painful things about time traveling has been the opportunity to see my mother alive.

He had never realized, while Elspeth was alive, the extent to which a thing had not completely happened until he told her about it.

Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?

When somebody is that patient, you have to feel grateful, and then you want to hurt them. Does that make any sense?