…there was no more safety to be found in love than there was to be found in a virus.

The powerful wind swept his hair away from his face; he leaned his chest into the wind, as if he stood on the deck of a ship heading into the wind, slicing through the waves of an ocean he’d not yet seen.

All men are liars, said Roberta Muldoon, who knew this was true because she had once been a man.

Don't forget this, too: Rumors aren't interested in the unsensational story; rumors don't care what's true.

Our memory is a monster; you forget it - it does not.

We invent what we love and what we fear.

Sell my old clothes - I'm off to heaven