He fished in his pocket for his keys and instead pulled out the last geode, gray and smooth, earth-shaped. He held it, warming in his palm, thinking of all mysteries the world contained: layers of stone, concealed beneath the flesh of earth and grass; these dull rocks, with their glimmering hidden hearts.

His love for her was so deeply woven with resentment that he could not untangle the two.

You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.

It seemed there was no end at all to the lies a person could tell, once she got started.

The place was a familiar as breath but as far from his life now as the moon.

She didn't love him and he didn't love her; she was like an addiction, and what they were doing had a darkness to it, a weight.

That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.