... scarred by wisdom she'd never asked for.

We were supposed to grow old together, Dolores. Have kids. Take walks under old trees. I wanted to watch the lines etch themselves into your flesh and know when each and every one of them appeared. Die together.

The world does not have tidy endings. The world does not have neat connections. It is not filled with epiphanies that work perfectly at the moment that you need them.

Choice, I've always believed, is all that separates us from animals.

I sort of play golf because a lot of my friends are into it, but I'm awful - my handicap is about six or seven thousand.

Whatever she saw beyond the camera lens, beyond the photographer, beyond anything in the known world probably - wasn't fit to be seen.

He wondered if this was what clinical depression felt like, a total numbness, a weary lack of hope.