I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. If I were to imagine heaven, I would imagine a door opening. And he would be waiting for me there.

The her that lived in her looked out through her eyes, through my eyes, and at the me that lives in me.

Don't remember summer even saying goodbye.

...it’s not just the person who fills a house, it’s their I’ll be back later!s, their toothbrushes and unused hats and coats, their belongingnesses.

The body is the outermost layer of the mind.

…and there, in the background, the sky’s sediment had sunk to a place where all the woe of the words ‘I am’ dissolved into blue peace. He said it. ‘The ocean.

She was widely read enough to appreciate my literary wit but not so widely read that she knew my sources. I like that in a woman.