It's a good thing Kerry's dead, because that funeral would've sent him over the edge," Henry said.

You don’t share me. You own me.

The clothes are packed off to Goodwill I said my good-byes up on the hill The house is empty, the furniture sold Soon your smell will decay to mold Don't know why I bother calling, ain't nobody answering Don't know why I bother singing, ain't nobody listening "Disconnect" Collateral Damage, Track 10

It's nice, this. The canal." He looks at me. "You." "I'll bet you say that to all the canals.

Even if you find him. Even if he didn't leave you on purpose, he can't possibly live up to the person you've built him into." It's not like the thought hasn't occurred to me. I get that the chances of finding him are small, but the chances of finding him as I remember him are even smaller. But I just keep going back to what my dad always says, about how when you lose something, you have to visualize the last place you had it. And I found―and then lost―so many things in Paris.

But my hand has been clenched into a fist for three years now; it's frozen shut.

I have a feeling that once you live through something like this, you become a little bit invincible.