Most of us don't live our lives with one, integrated self that meets the world, we're a whole bunch of selves.

It's hard for me, a Jew, to stay in the moment. Without the past, where is the guilt? And without the future, where is the dread? And without guilt and dread, who am I?

Love needs room to grow. Like a rose. Or a tumor.

Chapter 8, Dinner With the Vampire: Is there something wrong with your food?" No, I'm just not very hungry." You're going to break my heart, aren't you?

If you like what you're reading, I probably wrote it.

Theophilus Crowe's mobile phone played eight bars of "Tangled Up in Blue" in an irritating electronic voice that sounded like a choir of suffering houseflies, or Jiminy Cricket huffing helium, or, well, you know, Bob Dylan.

It was an eight-harlot inn, if that's how you measure an inn. (I understand that now they measure inns in stars. We are in a four-star inn right now. I don't know what the conversion from harlots to stars is.)