Sometimes I think if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.

I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.

Sometimes when you get older — and I’m not talking about you, I’m talking generally, because everyone ages differently — things you think on and wish on start to seem real. And then you believe them, and before you know it they’re part of your history, and if someone challenges you on them and says they’re not true — why, then you get offended because you can’t remember the first part. All you know is that you’ve been called a liar.

Although, pretending not to notice is almost worse than noticing.

How hard can it be to find a girl and an elephant for Christ's sake?

They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.

It's just a crazy damned life, that's all.