I am not in love with him, I am in love with ghosts. So is he, he's in love with ghosts.

she had a laugh that hinted it had rolled around once or twice in the mud.

Moments before sleep are when she feels most alive, leaping across fragments of the day, bringing each moment into the bed with her like a child with schoolbooks and pencils. The day seems to have no order until these times, which are like a ledger for her, her body full of stories and situations.

A man in a desert can hold absence in his cupped hands, knowing it is something that feeds him more than water.

I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. It comes from too long having to read into hardly anything at all.

I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.

What night gave Rafael was a formlessness in which everything had a purpose. As if darkness had a hidden musical language.