...The men eyed her with the automatic mix of curiosity, lust, and aesthetic judgment they always gave young women, subject to object, the way you'd stare at an animal. She pretended not to notice. To remind them she was a person was too much effort. Objects bore no guilt.

Oleander time, she said. Lovers who kill each other now will blame it on the wind.

...You know the mistrust of heights is the mistrust of self, you don't know whether you're going to jump.

her scruffy innoscense to impregnate with his dreams. reason was seductive, it gave the appearance of truth

At every moment, each instrument knew what to play. Its little bit. But none could see the whole thing like this, all at once, only its own part. Just like life. Each person was like a line of music, but nobody knew what the symphony sounded like. Only the conductor had the whole score.

I wish my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart.

You can't shape me anymore. I am the uncontrolled element, the random act. I am forward movement in time. You think you can see me? Then tell me, who am I? You don't know.