It bewildered Ig, the idea that a person could not be interested in music. It was like not being interested in happiness.

I will die like a true-blue rebel. Don't waste any time in mourning - organize.

The soul is an irrational, indivisible equation that perfectly expresses one thing: you. The soul would be no good to the devil if it could be destroyed. And it is not lost when placed in Satan's care, as is so often said. He always know exactly how to put his finger on it.

Terror is the desire to save your own ass, but horror is rooted in sympathy.

I felt like it needed some color down there, so I painted the walls with the motherfucker.

... people made the imaginary real all the time: taking the music they heard in their head and recording it, seeing a house in their imagination and building it. Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.

Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in-slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done - cook an omelette, change lightbulbs, make with hugging - sometimes almost made being a woman fun.