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

It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: “It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me.

I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I take walks. I work until I'm tired. I watch the wind play with the trash that's been under the snow all winter. Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by abscence?

Now I wonder if it means that the future is a place, or like a place, that I could go to; that is go to in some way other than just getting older.

I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way.

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

There is only one page left to write on. I will fill it with words of only one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love.