She won't give him back his look.

What good are insights? They only make things worse.

Something’s died in me,” she goes. “It took a long time for it to do it, but it’s dead. You’ve killed something, just like you’d took an axe to it. Everything is dirt now.

Get in, get out. Don't linger. Go on.

All this, all of this love we're talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory. Am I wrong? Am I way off base? Because I want you to set me straight if you think I'm wrong. I want to know. I mean, I don't know anything, and I'm the first one to admit it.

there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.

Fiction shows the external effects of internal conditions. Be aware of the tension between internal and external movement.