Royal Young's writing is that rare blend of irony and beauty.

We touched with a softness that pushed through the skin into memory, like arms plunged into a river - we could feel the weight of each other's stones.

In the end I didn't know who I was crying for, but it was something my body wanted to do, as though trying to digest grief.

I think anyone can fall in love, if you're open and you're willing, but the real test is sustaining it after all the excitement has worn off.

If there is such a thing as marriage, it takes place long before the ceremony; in a car on the way to the airport; or as a gray bedrooms fills with dawn, one lover watching the other; or as two strangers stand together in the rain with no bus in sight, arms weighed down with shopping bags. You don't know then. But later you realize - that was the moment.

Music is only a mystery to people who want it explained. Music and love are the same.

Love requires imagination more than experience.