“After another moment's silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.”

“Her expression turned serious. "In another life, I could love you."I watched her for a moment, staring into her glassed-over eyes. She was drunk, but just for a moment it didn't seem wrong to pretend she meant it."I might love you in this one.”

“The lights might have dimmed, but I blinked at that moment so I didn’t notice. I also didn’t notice her love, probably because she never showed or told me.”

“That night at Dumbarton was a classic of its kind. She had hopes still, I think, of enslaving me despite myself with her charms. And I probably thought the same. We both found we were mistaken. It had its moments; but she has the mind and morals of a jungle cat. She didn’t enjoy meeting … another of the same.”

“Why do I doubt her? Perhaps she is just very sensitive, and hypersensitive people are false when others doubt them; they waver. And one thinks them insincere. Yet I want to believe her. At the same time it does not seem so very important that she should love me. It is not her role. I am so filled with my love of her. And at the same time I feel that I am dying. Our love would be death. The embrace of imaginings.”

“Abby touched her palm to my cheek. "You know what, Mr. Maddox?""What, baby?"Her expression turned serious."In another life, I could love you."I watched her for a moment, staring into her glassed over eyes. She was drunk, but just for a moment it didn't seem wrong to pretend that she meant it."I might love you in this one.”