I knew what love was supposed to be: obsession with undertones of nausea.

The myth that everyone once read great literature is just a myth.

We are silent, considering shortfalls. There's not much time left, for us to become what we once intended. Jon had potential, but it's not a word that can be used comfortably any more. Potential has a shelf-life.

The sands of time are quicksands ... so much can sink into them without a trace.

In Heaven, there are no debts - all have been paid, one way or another - but in Hell there's nothing but debts, and a great deal of payment is exacted, though you can't ever get all paid up. You have to pay, and pay, and keep on paying. So Hell is like an infernal maxed-out credit card that multiplies the charges endlessly.

I am not a saint or a cripple, I am not a wound; now I will see whether I am a coward.

Come away with me, he said, we will live on a desert island. I said, I am a desert island. It was not what he had in mind.