Make no mistake, the woman had a heart. She had a bigger one that people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving. Remember that she was the woman with the instrument strapped to her body in the long, moon-slit night.

Only in today's sick society can a man be persecuted for reading too many books.

He prefers not to ruin things with any more questions. What it is is what it is.

I watch the beauty for as long as I can, then turn and face the rest of it.

How about a kiss, Saumensch?

an expression of surprise falls from her face, though she's trying to keep it. it breaks off and she seems to catch it and fidget with it in her hands.

If you ever write a book, I can only give you one piece of advice. Don't let your parents get involved.