I guess this is what marriage is, or was, or could be. You drop the mask. You allow the fatigue in. You lean across and kiss the years because they're the things that matter.

He realized that he had thought only about the first step, never imagined the last.

If they ask you to stand still, you should dance.

There are no days more full than those we go back to.

What was a life anyway? An accumulation of small shelves of incident.

It had never occurred to me before but everything in New York is built upon another thing, nothing is entirely by itself, each thing as strange as the last, and connected.

I have different books for different times of the day, let alone different seasons of the year!