Hearts can break. Yes, hearts can break. Sometimes I think it would be better if we died when they did, but we don't.

You know, small children take it as a matter of course that things will change every day and grown-ups understand that things change sooner or later and their job is to keep them from changing as long as possible. It’s only kids in high school who are convinced they’re never going to change. There’s always going to be a pep rally and there’s always going to be a spectator bus, somewhere out there in their future.

Love among the ruins... I'll tell you something, my friend: Weird love's better than no love at all.

The world had moved on and all that was over, done before fairly begun.

I think part of being a parent is trying to kill your kids.

Was there ever a trap to match the trap of love?

And if there are no cars or planes, and if no one’s Uncle John is out in the wood lot west of town banging away at a quail or pheasant; if the only sound is the slow beat of your own heart, you can hear another sound, and that is the sound of life winding down to its cyclic close, waiting for the first winter snow to perform last rites.