I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way.

Each spine was an encapsulated memory, each book represented hours, days of pleasure, of immersion into words.

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

He would say her name over and over until it devolved into meaningless sounds - mah REI kuh, mah REI kuh - it became an entry in a dictionary of loneliness.

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

I'm at a loss because I am in love with a man who is standing before me with no memories of me at all. (Time Traveler's Wife)

The space that I can call mine.. is so small that my ideas have become small. I am like a caterpillar in a cocoon of paper; all around me are sketches for sculptures, small drawings that seem like moths fluttering against the windows, beating their wings to escape from this tiny space.. Every day the ideas come more reluctantly, as though they know I will starve them and stunt their growth.